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LATER  QUEENS   OF  THE 
FRENCH   STAGE 


LATER  QUEENS  OF 
THE  FRENCH  STAGE 


BY 


H.   NOEL   WILLIAMS 


AUTHOR  OF   "queens  OK  THE  FRENCH  STAGE,"  "  MADAME    RECAMIER 
AND    HER    FRIENDS,"   "  MADAME    DE  POMPADOUR,"    "MADAME 
DE    MONTESPAN,"  "  MADAME   DU  BARRY,"   ETC. 


y        >  )  )   J  J 


NEW   YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1906 


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TO 
A.   M.    BROADLEY 


9 

M 


g  445152 


CONTENTS 


I.  SOPHIE  ARNOULD 


II.  MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD 


in.  MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT 


'-     IV.  MADAME  DUGAZON 


V.  MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT 


—     VI.  MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY 


I'AGB 
I 


99 
H3 

223 
263 


INDEX 


345 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


Sophie  Arnould  (Phologravtire)        ....  Froniisfiece 

After  the  painting  by  Gkeuze  in  the  Wallace  Collection 
at  Hertford  House 

GlUCK Tofacepage     56 

After  the  painting  by  N.  F.  DUPLESSIS 

Sophie  Arnould ,,  72 

From  an  engraviiig  by  Prud'hon  after  the  drawing  by 

COEURfi 

Marie  Madeleine  Guimard ,,  112 

From  a?i  engraving  by  Gervais  after  the  painting  by 
Boucher 

Mlle.  Raucourt         ..;....  „  160 

From  a7i  engraving  by  RuoTTE  after  the  painting  by  J| 

Gros,  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  A.  M.  Broadley  " 

Madame  Dugazon ,,  202 

From  an  engraving  by  MONSALDI  after  the  painting  by 
Jean  Baptiste  Isabey 

Louise  Contat „  240 

After  the  painting  by  Dutertre 

Madame  Saint-Huberty ,,  288 

From  an  engraving  by  COLINET  after  the  painting  by 
Le  Moine 


I 

SOPHIE  ARNOULD 


LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE 
FRENCH  STAGE 


I 

SOPHIE   ARNOULD 

In  her  unpublished  M.emoires}  which  she  began,  but 
never  completed,  and  only  a  few  pages  of  which — 
possibly  all  that  she  wrote — have  been  preserved,  Sophie 
Arnould  tells  us  that  she  was  born  in  1745,  "in  the  same 
alcove  in  which  Admiral  Coligny  had  been  assassinated 
two  hundred  years  before."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
celebrated  singer  was  born  on  February  14,  1745,  and 
it  was  not  until  some  years  after  her  birth  that  her 
parents  removed  to  the  Hotel  de  Ponthieu,  Rue  B6thisy, 
then  known  as  the  Rue  des  Fosses-Saint-Germain 
I'Auxerrois.^ 

Sophie's  parents  belonged  to  the  upper  bourgeoisie^ 
and  at  the  time  of    her    birth  appear  to  have  been  in 

^  At  the  time  when  they  wrote  their  monograph  on  the  singer,  Sophie's 
Memoires  were  in  possession  of  the  Goncourts ;  it  is  uncertain  where  they 
now  are. 

^  Here  is  her  acte  de  naissance,  which  also  disposes  of  Castil-BIaze's 
assertion  that  her  real  name  was  Anne  Madeleine,  and  that  she  had  adopted 
that  of  Sophie  "  as  being  more  sweet  and  harmonious." 

"  The  year  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  forty,  14th  of  February, 
Magdeleinc  Sophie,  daughter  of  Jean  Arnould,  here  present,  and  of  Rose 


4  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

comfortable  circumstances.  Her  father,  Jean  Arnould, 
was  a  worthy  man,  whose  worldly  ambitions  were  limited 
to  securing  a  comfortable  competence,  retiring  from 
business,  and  purchasing  some  Government  or  municipal 
ofHce  and  the  social  distinction  which  went  with  it. 
Her  mother,  however,  had  received  an  excellent  education, 
"  which,  joined  to  her  natural  intelligence,"  says  Sophie, 
"  rendered  her  in  society  the  most  amiable  and  inter- 
esting of  women."  She  affected  literary  society  and 
numbered  among  her  friends  and  acquaintances  Voltaire, 
Fontenelle,  who,  a  few  days  before  his  death,  called  to 
show  her  the  manuscript  of  one  of  the  great  Corneille's 
tragedies,  Piron,  the  Comte  de  Caylus,  Moncrif,  the  Abbe 
(afterwards  the  Cardinal)  de  Bernis,  Diderot,  and 
d'Alembert. 

So  impressed  was  Madame  Arnould  by  the  conversation 
of  these  celebrities,  that  she  determined  to  make  her 
little  girl  a  prodigy  of  learning.  Sophie's  education 
began  almost  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of  her  cradle.  She 
was  precocious  and  learned  quickly.  At  four,  she 
declares,  she  could  read ;  at  seven  she  wrote  better 
than  at  the  time  of  penning  her  Memoires,  and  at  the 
same  age  could  read  music  at  sight  without  any  diffi- 
culty. The  infant  prodigy  was  petted  and  spoiled  to 
the  top  of  her  bent,  "  dressed  up  in  silk  and  satin,  with 
marcasite  necklace  and  flowers  in  her  hair." 

When  the  child  was  four  or  five  years  old  she  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  Princess  of  Modena,  wife  of  the 
Prince  de  Conti,  from  whom,  however,  she  was  separated. 

Marguerite  Laurent,  his  wife,  born  yesterday,  Rue  Saint-Louis  in  this 
parish,  has  been  baptized. 

"  Godfather  :  Louis  Le  Vasseur,  manager  of  the  King's  farms,  Rue 
Coq-Heron,  parish  Saint-Eustache ;  godmother :  Magdeleine  Chevalier, 
spinster,  Rue  du  Mail,  of  the  above-mentioned  parish." 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  5 

Madame  de  Conti,  lonely  and  bored,  without  husband, 
lover,  child,  or  occupation,  took  a  violent  fancy  to 
Sophie,  and  begged  Madame  Arnould  to  let  her  have 
the  little  girl  to  live  with  her.  Madame  Arnould  con- 
sented, and  Sophie  became  the  plaything  of  the  eccentric 
princess,  "  who  dragged  her  about  everywhere  as  she 
might  have  her  little  dog,"  now  nursing  her  on  her  knee, 
now  setting  her  down  to  the  harpsichord,  now  taking 
her  visiting  in  her  carriage,  now  summoning  her  to  her 
salon  to  amuse  her  guests,  and  anon,  if  she  happened  to 
be  in  an  ill-humour,  turning  her  out  into  the  ante- 
chamber to  play  with  the  yawning  lackeys. 

No  pains  were  spared  with  Sophie's  education,  and 
the  best  masters  of  the  day  were  engaged  to  teach  her 
all  the  arts  and  accomplishments.  Before  she  was 
twelve,  she  could  both  write  and  speak  her  own  language 
correctly — a  rare  accomplishment  in  those  days  outside 
literary  circles,^  and  was  familiar  with  Latin  or  Italian  ; 
while  she  could  sing  like  a  professional. 

Her  musical  talents  were  not  destined  to  remain  long 
hidden.  When  the  time  for  her  first  communion  drew 
near,  she  was  placed  in  the  Ursuline  Convent  at  Saint- 
Denis,  the  su-perieure  of  which  was  a  fellow  townswoman 
and  friend  of  Madame  Arnould.  Here  she  sang  in  the 
choir,  and  with  such  astonishing  success  that  Court  and 
town  flocked  to  hear  her,  and  Voltaire,  from  his  retreat 
at  Ferney,  wrote  to  his  little  friend  a  letter  congratulating 
her  on  her  twofold  success  as  a  vocalist  and  a  first  com- 
municant ;  an  epistle  which  Madame  Arnould,  who 
did  not  share  the  Patriarch's  views  on  matters  of  religion, 

'  When  the  Opera-house  was  burned  down  in  April  1763,  a  lady  of 
the  Court  asked  Mile.  Arnould  if  she  could  give  her  any  particulars  about 
Cette  terrible  incendie.  "  AU  that  I  can  tell  you,  Madame,"  replied  Sophie, 
*'  is  that  incendie  is  a  masculine  noun." 


6  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

promptly  committed  to  the  fire,  although  the  Due  de 
Nivernais  begged  for  a  copy  on  his  knees.  On  leaving 
Saint-Denis,  Sophie  returned  to  live  with  Madame  de 
Conti,  who,  delighted  by  the  notice  which  she  had 
attracted,  provided  her  with  the  most  celebrated  music- 
masters  to  be  found  in  France  :  Balbatre  gave  her  lessons 
on  the  harpsichord,  and  the  famous  Jeliotte — Jeliotte,  the 
pride  of  the  Opera  ! — Jeliotte,  "  the  happy  and  discreet 
conqueror  of  all  the  fair  ladies  in  Paris  !  " — conde- 
scended to  sing  with  her.  Sophie  proved  herself  worthy 
of  her  teachers. 

It  was  then  the  fashion,  among  ladies  of  rank,  to  do 
penance  during  Lent  by  retiring  to  one  of  the  many 
convents  in  Paris  or  its  neighbourhood.  Some  of  the 
visitors  were,  of  course,  sincerely  desirous  of  benefiting 
by  the  services,  the  conversation  of  the  nuns,  and  the 
opportunities  for  meditation  which  these  peaceful  abodes 
afforded  ;  but  to  the  majority  the  practice  would  appear 
to  have  been  regarded  merely  as  a  kind  of  rest  cure. 
There  was  nothing  at  all  austere  or  conventual  about 
the  life  for  such  as  these.  They  rose  late,  walked  in  the 
gardens,  dined  on  plain  but  well-cooked  food,  received 
visits  from  their  friends,  attended  a  service  or  two, 
supped,  and  retired  early  to  bed ;  and  if  their  souls 
did  not  greatly  benefit,  the  early  hours  and  simple  fare 
worked  wonders  with  their  complexions.  They  had, 
too,  an  opportunity  of  listening  to  some  very  beautiful 
singing ;  for,  during  Holy  Week,  the  convents  vied  with 
one  another  in  engaging  the  finest  voices  of  the  Opera 
to  reinforce  their  choirs,  and  the  services  of  such  singers 
as  Jeliotte,  Chass6,  and  Miles.  Fel,  Chevalier,  and  Anna 
Tonelli  were  always  in  great  request. 

At  the  beginning  of   Holy  Week  1757,  Madame  de 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  7 

Conti,  who,  as  became  an  Italian  princess,  was  very 
strict  in  her  observance  of  Lent,  arrived  at  the  Abbey 
of  Panthemont,  where  she  found  the  community  in  a 
state  of  consternation.  The  convent  in  question  had 
not  deemed  it  necessary  to  enlist  the  services  of  any  of 
the  stars  of  the  Opera,  as  it  numbered  among  its  inmates 
a  nun  with  an  exceptionally  beautiful  voice.  But  alas  ! 
she  had  suddenly  been  taken  ill,  and  it  was  feared  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  replace  her.  Half  fashionable 
Paris  would  be  coming  on  Holy  Wednesday  to  hear  the 
Tenebrce  sung,  and  there  would  be  no  one  capable  of 
singing  it.  The  abbess  fell  upon  Madame  de  Conti's 
neck  and  wept  tears  of  mortification. 

The  princess  bade  her  not  despair,  told  her  of  the 
talent  of  her  little  -protegee,  and  suggested  that  she  should 
be  sent  for  ;  a  proposal  to  which  the  grateful  abbess 
readily  consented. 

Holy  Wednesday  came,  and  with  it  a  great  crowd 
of  visitors.  At  the  beginning  of  the  service  Sophie 
was  a  little  nervous,  but  quickly  recovered  her  presence 
of  mind,  and  sang  so  divinely  that  her  hearers  were 
enraptured,  and  some,  in  spite  of  the  solemnity  of  the 
place,  could  not  refrain  from  applause.  The  following  day 
there  was  not  a  vacant  seat  in  the  church  ;  while  on  Good 
Friday  the  doors  were  literally  besieged,  and  more  than 
two  hundred  carriages  were  turned  back.  Those  who 
had  succeeded  in  gaining  admission  had  every  reason 
to  congratulate  themselves  on  their  good  fortune,  for 
Sophie  sang  the  Miserere  of  Lalande,  and  with  such 
exquisite  pathos  that  there  was  scarcely  a  dry  eye  in  the 
congregation.-^ 

Paris  was  as  delighted  as  if  it  had  found  a  new  fashion. 
'  E.  and  J.  de  Goncourt,  Sophie  Arnould,  p.  lo. 


8  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

All  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain  wended  its  way  to  the 
Hotel  de  Conti  to  congratulate  the  princess  upon  the 
possession  of  this  little  wonder  with  her  angelic  voice. 
The  Court  was  scarcely  less  interested  and,  finally,  the 
Queen,  the  pious  Marie  Leczinska,  who  lived  in  a  little 
world  of  her  own  and  seldom  troubled  herself  about 
what  was  happening  in  the  one  outside,  expressed  a 
desire  to  see  Sophie. 

"  On  your   account,"   remarked   Madame   de   Conti 
to  the  radiant    girl,  "  her  Majesty  condescends  to  re- 
member   my    existence."     (The    said    Majesty   did    not 
approve  of  ladies  who  lived  apart  from  their  husbands.) 
Nevertheless,  the  Queen  had  to  be  obeyed,  and  so  the 
princess,  who  was  proud  of  her  -protegee  and,  in  truth, 
far   from   displeased   with   so   striking   a   tribute   to   her 
discernment,  ordered  her  coach  and  set  out  for  Versailles. 
On   reaching   the   Chateau,   Madame   de   Conti   and 
Sophie  were  conducted  to  Marie  Leczinska's  apartments, 
where    the    Queen    almost    immediately    joined    them. 
Her  Majesty  smiled  very  graciously  upon  the  girl,  and 
kissed  her  forehead,  murmuring  :    "  She  is  indeed  very 
pretty  !  "     Then   several  portfolios   of  music   were   put 
before  her,  and  she  was  bidden  to  choose  what  she  would 
like  to  sing,  and  not  to  be  afraid  ;    a  somewhat  unneces- 
sary  exhortation,   since   never  was    there   a   more   self- 
possessed    young    person.     Sophie,     quite     undismayed 
by  the  presence  of  her  royal  auditor,  forthwith  assailed 
a  very  difficult  piece,  and  had  scarcely  finished  when  the 
Queen,  who  was  herself  a  musician  of  no  mean  attain- 
ments, remarked  to  Madame  de  Conti  :    "  I  should  like 
to  have  her,  cousin  ;  you  will  give  her  up  to  me,  will  you 
not  ?  "  meaning  that  she  wished  to  make  her  one  of  her 
Musicians    of    the    Chamber.     Afterwards    refreshments 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  9 

were  brought  in,  and  the  Queen,  having  complimented 
the  young  singer  and  bestowed  upon  her  a  friendly  pat 
with  her  fan,  took  her  departure. 

But  there  was  another  Queen  of  France  :  Madame  de 
Pompadour,  to  wit,  who  had  already  expressed  a  wish 
to  hear  Sophie  sing  ;  a  wish  which  could  no  more  be 
ignored  than  that  of  Marie  Leczinska.  On  the  morrow 
of  the  interview  with  the  Queen,  Madame  du  Hausset, 
the  favourite's  femme  de  chambre,  presented  herself  at 
the  Hotel  de  Conti,  bearing  a  letter  from  her  mistress 
to  the  princess,  requesting  the  loan  of  little  Mile.  Arnould 
till  the  evening. 

This  request  caused  Madame  de  Conti  considerable 
embarrassment.  What  one  called  then  "  les  grandes 
convenances  "  forbade  her  to  present  Sophie  to  both  the 
crowned  and  the  uncrowned  Queen  of  France.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  refusal  would  mortally  offend  the  latter, 
who  was  an  extremely  awkward  person  to  offend,  as  a 
great  many  people,  from  Princes  of  the  Blood  and 
Ministers  of  State  to  ballad-mongers,  had  found  to  their 
cost.     The  poor  lady  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 

Finally,  she  sought  refuge  in  a  compromise.  Sophie 
should  go  to  Versailles  again,  but,  on  this  occasion,  not 
in  her  patroness's  company,  but  in  that  of  her  mother. 
So  Madame  Arnould  was  sent  for  and  told  to  take  her 
daughter,  as  from  Madame  de  Conti,  to  the  favourite  ; 
and  the  princess  congratulated  herself  on  having  emerged 
with  credit  from  a  very  embarrassing  situation. 

Madame  de  Pompadour  received  her  visitor  very 
graciously,  and  remarked  that  "  mother  and  daughter 
were  the  very  picture  of  one  another,"  after  which, 
saying  that  the  King  had  sent  for  her,  and  that  she 
would  return  in  a  few  minutes,  she  left  them  to  them- 


lo    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

selves.  In  the  room  in  which  they  sat  were  two  magni- 
ficent harpsichords,  one  of  which  had  been  decorated 
with  charming  pictures  by  Boucher.  This  instrument 
attracted  Sophie's  attention,  and,  while  Madame  de 
Pompadour  was  absent,  she  stepped  up  to  it,  ran  her 
fingers  over  the  keys,  and  began  to  sing.  The  marchioness, 
returning  at  that  moment,  listened  entranced  to  the 
girl's  singing  until  she  had  finished,  when  she  exclaimed  : 
"  My  dear  child,  le  bon  Dieu  has  made  you  for  the  theatre  ; 
you  were  born,  formed  as  one  ought  to  be  for  it  :  you 
will  not  tremble  before  the  public." 

Then  their  hostess  conducted  them  through  her 
apartments,  where  Sophie  appears  to  have  been  par- 
ticularly struck  by  the  favourite's  sumptuous  bed,  with 
its  green  and  gold  hangings  and  gold  fringes,  raised, 
like  a  throne,  upon  a  dais,  and  enclosed  within  a  semi- 
circular balustrade  of  gold  and  marble,  the  exact  counter- 
part, in  fact,  of  the  Queen's  own  couch.  The  marchioness 
begged  her  to  sing  again,  and,  delighted  with  her  sweet 
voice,  smilingly  inquired  who  were  her  masters  ;  to 
change  countenance,  however,  when  she  heard  their 
names,  for  they  were  the  same  whom  she  had  engaged 
for  her  idolised  little  daughter,  Alexandrine  d'Etoiles, 
who  had  died  some  years  before. 

As  Sophie  and  her  mother  were  taking  their  leave, 
Madame  de  Pompadour  drew  the  latter  aside,  and  said 
in  a  low  voice  :  "  If  the  Queen  should  ask  for  your 
daughter  for  the  music  of  the  Chamber,  do  not  have 
the  imprudence  to  consent.  The  King  goes  from  time 
to  time  to  these  little  family  concerts,  and,  instead  of 
giving  this  child  to  the  Queen,  you  will  have  made  a 
present  of  her  to  the  King."  Then  she  turned  to 
Sophie,  and,    having   examined    the    lines   in   the    girl's 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  ii 

forehead  and  hand,  said  to  her  gravely  :  "  You  will  make 
a  charming  princess  !  " 

A  few  days  after  these  visits,  Madame  Arnould 
received  a  communication  from  the  Gentlemen  of  the 
Chamber  to  the  effect  that  her  Majesty  had  deigned  to 
admit  the  demoiselle  Sophie  Arnould  into  her  private 
company  of  musicians  and  singers,  at  a  salary  of  one 
hundred  louis ;  Madame  Arnould  received  a  similar 
appointment,  at  the  same  salary  as  her  daughter. 

Hardly  had  the  good  lady  had  time  to  master  the 
contents  of  this  document,  when  there  came  a  second 
of  a  much  less  welcome  nature.  It  was  a  lettre  de  cachet, 
informing  her  that  by  the  express  order  of  the  King,  the 
demoiselle  Sophie  Arnould  was  attached  to  his  Majesty's 
company  of  musicians,  and,  in  particular,  to  his  theatre 
of  the  Opera. 

On  reading  this,  the  poor  mother  burst  into  tears. 
She  had  no  objection  to  her  daughter  singing  before 
the  virtuous  Marie  Leczinska,  but  the  Opera  was  a  very 
different  matter.  No  young  girl  could  hope  to  preserve 
her  virtue  for  long  at  the  Academic  Royale  de  Musique, 
the  rules  of  which  emancipated  its  members  from 
parental  control.  Rather  than  see  her  child  ruined,  she 
resolved  to  consign  her  to  a  convent,  and,  accordingly, 
hurried  off  to  Madame  de  Conti  to  implore  her 
assistance. 

Madame  de  Conti  promised  to  do  all  in  her  power 
to  save  Sophie  from  the  danger  which  threatened  her, 
and  took  the  girl  to  her  friend  the  Abbess  of  Panthe- 
mont.  "  I  bring  you,"  said  she,  "  this  young  girl,  of 
whom  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber  wish  to  make 
an  actress  ;  a  decision  which  does  not  meet  with  my 
approval.     Conceal  her  for  me  in  some  little  corner  of 


12    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

your  convent,  until  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  the  King." 

To  which  the  discreet  abbess  replied  :  "  Princess, 
salvation  is  possible  in  every  profession.  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  thwart  the  wishes  of  the  King,  to  whom  I  owe 
my  abbey.  Go  and  see  the  abbesses  of  Saint-Antoine 
and  Val-de-Grace  :  perhaps,  in  this  matter,  they  will 
have  more  courage  than  myself," 

Madame  de  Conti  tried  Saint-Antoine  and  Val-de- 
Grace  ;  but  at  both  she  received  the  same  answer  as  at 
Panthemont ;  and  was  reluctantly  forced  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  further  attempts  in  the  same  direction  offered 
but  very  small  prospect  of  success. 

There  remained,  however,  another  way  of  escape  : 
marriage.  Sophie  had  an  admirer — a  devoted  and, 
what  was  more  to  the  point,  an  eligible  admirer — a 
certain  Chevalier  de  Malezieux,  who  asked  nothing 
better  than  to  give  her  the  protection  of  his  name.  In 
his  day,  M.  de  Malezieux  had  been  a  noted  vairiqueur 
de  dames,  but  that  day,  alas  !  was  long  past,  and  though 
he  strove  manfully  to  repair  the  ravages  of  time  by  the 
aid  of  an  ingenious  toilette,  the  only  result  of  his  efforts 
was  to  give  him  the  appearance  of  a  majestic  ruin. 

Madame  de  Conti  had,  at  first,  regarded  this  veteran 
dandy's  attentions  to  her  protegee  with  scant  favour, 
and,  meeting  the  old  gentleman  one  day  at  the  Arnoulds' 
house,  charitably  related  for  his  benefit  the  story  of  a 
prince  of  her  own  family,  who  had  imprudently  con- 
tracted a  marriage  at  the  age  of  eighty,  and  had  died  the 
same  night.  Still,  a  day  or  two  later,  she  told  Sophie 
that  she  might  do  worse  than  take  charge  of  the  chevalier 
and  his  infirmities,  provided  that  he  would  agree  to 
settle  his  whole  fortune  upon  her  ;    and  after  the  arrival 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  13 

of  the  lettre  de  cachet  from  Versailles,  and  her  abortive 
attempts  to  secure  the  girl's  admission  to  a  convent, 
actually  proposed  to  send  for  M.  de  Malezieux,  and  have 
the  marriage  celebrated  there  and  then. 

Madame  Arnould,  however,  did  not  altogether 
approve  of  such  haste,  while  Sophie  shed  tears  enough 
to  melt  the  heart  of  the  sternest  parent ;  and  the  matter, 
therefore,  remained  in  abeyance.  Nevertheless,  the 
chevalier,  encouraged  by  Madame  de  Conti,  pressed 
his  suit  with  ardour,  dyed  his  eyebrows,  rouged  his 
cheeks,  "  shaved  twice  a  day,"  and,  one  fine  morning, 
presented  himself  at  the  Arnoulds'  house,  bearing  the 
draft  of  a  marriage-contract,  in  which  the  whole  of  his 
property,  amounting  to  some  40,000  livres  a  year,  was 
settled  upon  Sophie. 

The  prospect  of  so  advantageous  a  settlement  in 
life  for  her  daughter  was  a  temptation  greater  than  any 
self-respecting  mother  could  be  expected  to  resist,  and 
though  M.  Arnould  declined  to  force  the  girl  into  a 
marriage  which  was  distasteful  to  her,  his  wife  lost  no 
opportunity  of  sounding  the  praises  of  M.  de  Malezieux — 
or  rather  of  M.  de  Malezieux's  income — in  Sophie's 
reluctant  ear.  That  young  lady,  however,  only  pouted, 
and  when  her  antiquated  admirer  strove  to  soften  her 
heart  towards  him  by  citing  the  example  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  who,  when  a  young  and  beautiful  girl,  no 
older  than  Sophie  herself,  had  espoused  the  crippled 
poet  Scarron,  replied,  laughing :  "  I  will  make  a  similar 
marriage  to-morrow,  on  condition  that  my  husband 
will  begin  by  being  a  cripple,  and  end  by  being  a 
king."  1 

And  so  poor  M.  de  Malezieux's  contract  was  never 

'  E.  and  J.  de  Goncourt,     Sephie  Arnould,  p.  23. 


14  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

signed,  and  no  alternative  now  remained  for  Madame 
Arnould  but  to  allow  Sophie  to  enter  the  Opera,  trusting 
that,  for  some  time  to  come,  her  services  would  only  be 
required  for  the  Concerts  of  Sacred  Music  which  were 
given  during  Lent.  This  hope,  however,  was  not  realised, 
for  the  directors  of  the  Opera  happened  to  be  just  at 
that  time  on  the  look-out  for  some  novelty  to  divert  the 
attention  of  their  patrons  from  the  mediocrity  of  the 
pieces  with  which  they  had  lately  been  provided,  and, 
accordingly,  on  December  15,  1757,  the  young  singer 
was  called  upon  to  make  her  first  bow  to  the  public. 

It  was  a  very  modest  debut — merely  the  singing  of 
an  air  introduced  into  an  opera-ballet  by  Mouret, 
entitled  Les  Amours  des  Dieux}  Nevertheless,  restricted 
as  were  the  girl's  opportunities  on  this  occasion,  she 
quickly  became  a  public  favourite ;  indeed,  the  eagerness 
to  see  and  hear  her  was  so  great  that  on  the  evenings  on 
which  she  appeared,  the  doors  of  the  theatre  were 
besieged,  and  Freron  sarcastically  observed  that  *'  he 
doubted  whether  people  would  give  themselves  so  much 
trouble  to  enter  Paradise." 

"  Mile.  Arnould,"  says  the  Mercure  de  France  of  the 
following  January,  which  was  but  the  feeble  echo  of  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  public,  "  continues  her  debut  in  Les 
Amours  des  Dieux,  with  great  and  well-deserved  success. 
She  attracts  the  public  to  such  an  extent  that  the  Thurs- 
day has  become  the  most  brilliant  day  at  the  Opera, 
altogether  effacing  the  Friday.  The  second  air  which 
she  sings  affords  her  more  scope  for  the  display  of  her 
talent  than  the  first.     She  possesses  at  once  a  charming 

*  The  song,  it  may  be  mentioned,  began  with  the  words,  "  Charmant 
amour"  a  not  inappropriate  omen,  remarks  the  lady's  latest  biographer,  Mr. 
Douglas,  for  one  who  was  to  become  notorious  for  her  gallantries. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  15 

face,  a  beautiful  voice,  and  warmth  of  sentiment.  She 
is  full  of  expression  and  of  soul.  Her  voice  is  not  only 
tender,  but  passionate.  In  a  word,  she  has  received 
all  the  gifts  of  Nature,  and,  in  order  to  perfect  them, 
she  receives  all  the  resources  of  Art." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  New  Year,  Sophie  appeared 
in  a  second  piece,  called  La  Provenfale,  in  which  she 
confirmed  the  favourable  impression  she  had  created 
in  Les  Amours  des  Dieux.  "  Mile.  Arnould,"  says  the 
Mercure,  "  sang  the  Proven<^ale  with  the  ingenuous 
charm  of  her  age.  In  this  role  she  had  only  one  im- 
portant song.  It  is  the  monologue  ('M^r^izm^/^  '  .  .  .), 
into  which  she  threw  all  the  expression  that  it  demanded. 
The  crowded  houses  which  have  followed  it  up  to  Lent 
are  proofs  of  the  pleasure  which  she  gives  the  public." 

In  the  following  April  the  young  actress  reaped  the 
reward  of  her  success  by  receiving  her  first  important 
part,  that  of  Venus  in  ^nee  et  Lavinie,  a  tragic  opera 
in  five  acts  by  Fontenelle,  music  by  Dauvergne.^  The 
confidence  reposed  in  her  was  not  misplaced,  and  she 
received  as  much  applause  as  she  had  previously  obtained 
in  ariettas  and  pastorals.  Such  was  her  success  indeed 
that  she  was  speedily  promoted  to  the  principal  role, 
and  the  admiring  critic  of  the  Mercure,  who  had  already 
spoken  in  high  terms  of  the  new  singer's  rendering  of 
Venus,  consecrated  to  her  the  following  article  : 

"  On  Tuesday,  April  13,  Mile.  Arnould  played  the 

^  The  opera,  or  rather  its  libretto,  was  an  old  one,  having  been  first 
produced  so  far  back  as  1690,  with  music  by  Colasse,  a  pupil  of  LuUi. 
Fontenelle,  who  lived  to  be  nearly  a  hundred,  was  still  alive  when  Dauvergne 
informed  him  of  his  intention  to  write  fresh  music  for  the  opera.  "  Mon- 
sieur," he  replied,  "  you  do  me  too  much  honour.  It  is  now  well-nigh 
sixty  years  since  that  opera  was  first  performed  ;  it  was  a  failure,  but  I  never 
heard  that  that  yy^as  the  fault  of  the  composer." 


1 6    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

role  of  Lavinie  for  the  first  time.  Her  success  was 
complete.  The  tragic  indeed  seems  to  be  the  genre 
most  suited  to  her.  It  is,  at  any  rate,  that  in  which  she 
has  appeared  to  most  advantage.  Her  gestures  are  noble 
without  arrogance  and  expressive  without  grimaces. 
Her  acting  is  vivacious  and  animated,  and  yet  never 
departs  from  the  natural.  This  excellent  actress  has 
already  partially  corrected  herself  of  a  kind  of  slowness, 
which  is  only  suitable  to  the  arietta.  Bad  examples 
had  led  her  astray.  We  invite  her  to  pay  heed  to  no 
one  but  herself,  if  she  wishes  to  approach  nearer  and 
nearer  to  perfection." 

"  So  great  a  success  renders  it  almost  needless  for  us 
to  observe  that  Mile.  Arnould  has  retained  this  role ; 
that  she  has  brought  back  the  public  to  the  Opera  ; 
finally,  that  she  has  adorned  Enee  et  Lavinie  with  an  ap- 
pearance of  novelty." 

Some  months  later  the  Mercure  returns  to  the 
subject  of  Enee  et  Lavinie^  and  observes  that  Mile. 
Arnould  played  the  latter  part  "  with  that  intelligence, 
that  dignity,  those  natural  and  touching  graces  which 
enchant  the  public."  "  Happily,"  continues  the  critic, 
"  she  has  depended  upon  her  own  impulses  before 
allowing  herself  to  be  intimidated  by  all  the  little  pre- 
judices of  the  art.  Model  as  a  debutante^  she  reanimates 
the  lyric  stage  and  appears  to  communicate  her  soul  to 
those  who  have  the  modesty  and  the  talent  to  imitate  her." 

Towards  the  end  of  June  of  that  year,  Sophie  created 
a  trio  of  small  parts  in  an  opera-ballet  in  three  acts, 
entitled  Les  Fetes  de  Paphos}     Colle,  that  most  exacting 

'  The  music  was  by  one  composer,  Mondonville,  the  choirmaster  of  the 
royal  chapel  at  Versailles,  but  the  three  acts,  which,  as  was  not  infrequently 
the  case  at  this  period,  had  little  or  no  connection  with  one  another,  were 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  17 

of  critics,  is  very  severe  on  this  piece,  but,  at  the  same 
time,  has  nothing  but  praise  for  Sophie,  who  appears 
to  have  covered  herself  with  glory.  "  At  the  first 
representation,"  he  writes,  "  the  music  of  this  ballet 
was  thought  pitiable,  and  it  would  not  have  survived  six, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  a  young  actress  who  made  her  first 
appearance  this  winter,  and  who,  in  four  months,  has 
become  the  queen  of  the  theatre.  Never  have  I  seen 
combined  in  the  same  actress  more  grace,  more  truth  of 
sentiment,  dignity  of  expression,  intelligence,  and  fire. 
Never  have  I  seen  grief  more  charmingly  expressed. 
She  can  depict  the  deepest  horror  without  her  counte- 
nance losing  one  feature  of  its  beauty.  She  would  be 
twice  as  great  an  actress  as  Mile.  Le  Maure,-'^  if  she  only 
possessed  two-thirds  of  her  voice,  and  Mile.  Le  Maure  will 
always  be  regarded  as  a  great  artiste.  I  speak  of  Mile. 
Sophie  Arnould,  who  is  not  yet  nineteen  years  old."  ^ 

The  voice  of  Sophie  Arnould  was  very  far  from  being 
a  powerful  one.  "  Nature,"  she  says  in  her  Mhnoires, 
"  had  seconded  this  taste  [the  taste  for  music]  with  a 
tolerably  agreeable  voice,  weak  but  sonorous,  though  not 
extremely    so.     But    it    was    sound    and    well-balanced, 

by  as  many  different  pens ;  the  first,  entitled  Fenus  et  Adonis,  being  by 
Gallet ;  the  second,  called  Bacchus  et  Erigone,  by  La  Bruere  ;  while  the  third, 
the  title  of  which  is  not  given,  was  believed  to  be  the  work  of  the  Abbe  de 
Voisenon. 

^  Catherine  Nicole  Le  Maure  (1704-1783).  She  made  her  debut  in 
1724,  in  VEuro-pe  galante,  and  at  once  took  high  rank  as  a  singer.  To  an 
admirable  voice  she  joined  unusual  talent  as  an  actress,  although  she  had 
received  hardly  any  dramatic  training.  In  1743  she  was  imprisoned  in 
For  I'Ev^que,  for  having  refused  to  sing  when  ordered  to  do  so,  and,  out 
of  pique,  quitted  the  stage,  though  she  consented  to  reappear  for  a  few 
evenings  during  the  festivities  in  honour  of  the  Dauphin's  first  marriage 
in  1745. 

*  Journal  't  Memoir es,  ii.  147. 

B 


i8   LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

so  that,  with  a  clear  pronunciation  and  without  any 
defect  save  a  sHght  lisp,  which  could  hardly  be  con- 
sidered a  fault,  not  a  word  of  what  I  sang  was  lost,  even 
in  the  most  spacious  buildings." 

She  might  have  added,  without  fear  of  contradiction, 
that  her  voice  was  infinitely  sweet  and  that  she  possessed 
the  gift  of  imparting  to  it  wonderful  pathos  and  expres- 
sion. "  She  brought  to  harmony,  emotion,  to  the  song, 
compassion,  to  the  play  of  the  voice,  sentiment.  She 
charmed  the  ear  and  touched  the  heart.  All  the  domain 
of  the  tender  drama,  all  the  graces  of  terror,  were  hers. 
She  possessed  the  cry,  and  the  tears,  and  the  sigh,  and  the 
caresses  of  the  pathetic.  .  .  .  What  art,  what  genius, 
must  there  have  been  to  wrest  so  many  harmonies  from 
a  contemptible  voice,  a  feeble  throat."  ^ 

Another  important  factor  in  Sophie's  success  is  to 
be  found  in  the  fact  that  she  was  not  only  a  great  singer, 
but  an  accomplished  actress,  which  great  singers  rarely 
are.  When  Madame  Arnould  had  found  that  she  had 
no  alternative  but  to  allow  her  daughter  to  enter  the 
Opera,  she  had,  like  a  sensible  woman,  decided  that,  since 
to  the  Opera  Sophie  must  go,  nothing  which  could 
possibly  make  for  her  success  in  her  profession  should  be 
neglected,  and  had  sent  her  to  take  lessons  in  singing 
from  Mile.  Fel,  and  in  acting  from  Mile.  Clairon.  The 
girl  had  not  failed  to  benefit  by  the  teaching  of  the 
famous  tragedienne,  and  her  command  of  facial  expression 
and  the  dignity  and  grace  of  her  movements  would  have 
reflected  credit  on  a  veteran  member  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise,  while  for  a  debutante  of  the  lyric  stage  they 
were  little  short  of  extraordinary. 

And  yet,  with  all  her  vocal  and  histrionic  talents, 

'  E.  and  J.  de  Goncourt,  Sophie  Armidd,  p.  33. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  19 

it  may  be  doubted  whether  Sophie  would  so  speedily 
have  attained  the  dazzling  position  in  the  estimation 
of  both  the  public  and  the  critics  which  was  now  hers, 
had  she  not  been  fortunate  enough  to  possess  physical 
attractions  of  a  high  order.  If  we  are  to  judge  of  her 
appearance  solely  by  her  portraits  by  La  Tour  and  Greuze, 
she  must  have  been  a  very  pretty  woman.  In  the  former, 
which  the  excellent  engraving  by  Bourgeois  de  la 
Richardiere  has  helped  to  popularise,  Sophie  is  depicted 
at  the  moment  when  she  is  about  to  sing.  Her  lips  are 
parted  ;  her  eyes,  fine  and  full  of  expression,  and  sur- 
mounted by  arched  eyebrows,  are  turned  imploringly 
heavenward  ;  while  her  face,  which  is  oval  in  shape, 
with  small  and  regular  features,  wears  a  look  at  once 
charming  and  pathetic.  In  the  Greuze  portrait — now 
in  the  Wallace  Collection  at  Hertford  House — the  actress 
is  dressed  in  white,  with  a  large  black  hat  decorated  with 
a  white  plume.  Her  elbow  rests  on  a  chair,  her  chin  on 
the  back  of  her  hand  ;  her  expression  is  nonchalant  and 
slightly  ennuye. 

These  portraits,  as  we  have  already  remarked, 
are  those  of  a  very  pretty  woman  ;  but  it  should 
be  added  that  the  pen-portraits  which  some  of  her 
contemporaries  have  left  of  Sophie  are  not  altogether 
in  accord  with  the  crayon  of  La  Tour  or  the  brush  of 
Greuze — nor  yet  with  the  description  which  the  lady 
gives  us  of  her  own  charms^ — and  we  are,  therefore, 
inclined  to  think  that  both  artists  have  rather  idealised 
their  subject,  a  practice  not  uncommon  with  portrait- 

*  *'  As  for  my  figure,  truth  compels  me  to  admit  that  I  am  not  tall, 
though  I  am  slender  and  well-proportioned.  I  have  a  graceful  frame,  and  my 
movements  are  easy.  I  have  a  well-formed  leg  and  a  pretty  foot ;  hands  and 
arms  like  a  model ;  eyes  well-set,  and  a  frank,  attractive,  and  intellectual  face." 


20    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

painters  in  the  eighteenth  century  or,  for  that  matter, 
in  much  later  times.  Colle  and  Grimm,  it  is  true,  both 
speak  of  Sophie  as  beautiful,  though  without  condescend- 
ing to  particulars ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  Madame 
Vigee  Lebrun  asserts  that  the  beauty  of  her  face  was 
spoiled  by  her  mouth,  while  one  of  the  inspectors  of  the 
Lieutenant  of  Police  describes  her  skin  as  "  black  and 
dry."  That  curious  work  UEspion  anglais  confirms  the 
artist  and  the  inspector  :  "  To  tell  the  truth,  there  is 
nothing  remarkable  about  her  ;  her  face  is  long  and  thin  ; 
she  has  a  villainously  ugly  mouth,  prominent  teeth, 
standing  out  from  the  gums,  and  a  black  and  greasy 
skin."  The  writer  adds,  however,  that  she  possessed 
"  two  fine  eyes,"  a  feature  which  also  impressed  Madame 
Lebrun,  who  says  that  they  gave  their  owner  "  a  piquant 
look,"  and  were  "  indicative  of  the  wit  which  had  made 
her  celebrated." 

But  two  fine  eyes,  as  one  of  her  biographers  very 
justly  observes,  count  for  much,  especially  when  animated 
by  the  intelligence,  the  feeling,  and  the  passion  which 
belonged  to  Sophie  ;  and  no  sooner  did  she  appear  upon 
the  stage  than  a  host  of  soupirants  gathered  about  her. 
For  some  months,  however,  they  sighed  in  vain.  The 
guardian  of  the  Golden  Fleece  was  not  more  vigilant 
or  more  awe-inspiring  than  Madame  Arnould.  Every 
evening  she  escorted  her  daughter  to  the  theatre,  remained 
in  her  dressing-room  while  the  mysteries  of  her  toilette 
were  being  performed,  accompanied  her  to  the  corner 
of  the  stage,  and  then  waited  in  the  wings  until  the  young 
actress  made  her  exit,  when  she  again  took  charge  of  her. 
She  seemed  to  have  as  many  eyes  as  Argus  himself.  If 
an  admirer  bolder  than  the  rest  ventured  to  approach 
Sophie,  before  he  had  uttered  half  a  dozen  words  down 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  21 

would  swoop  the  watchful  mother,  with  a  freezing  : 
"  Allans  I  laissez  la  petite  en  repos^  s^il  vous  plait,  Mon- 
sieur !  "  before  which  the  luckless  gallant  fled  incon- 
tinently. If  a  poulet  were  despatched,  it  was  invariably 
intercepted  and  returned  to  the  sender,  with  a  message 
which  made  him  feel  supremely  foolish.  "  She  is  not  a 
woman  at  all,"  exclaimed  the  indignant  Due  de  Fronsac, 
after  one  of  these  rebuffs  ;  "  she  is  a  veritable  watch- 
dog !  » 

But  even  the  most  intelligent  of  watch-dogs  cannot 
always  discriminate  between  friend  and  foe.  The  danger 
came  from  a  quarter  whence  the  poor  mother  least  expected 
it.     She  herself  admitted  the  wolf  into  the  sheepfold. 

For  some  time  past,  matters  had  not  gone  well  with 
the  Arnoulds ;  M.  Arnould  had  become  involved  in 
some  disastrous  speculations,  which  had  swallowed  up  the 
greater  part  of  his  fortune,  and  a  long  and  serious  illness 
had  made  further  inroads  upon  his  resources.  Accordingly, 
about  the  time  that  Sophie  made  her  debut  at  the  Opera, 
he  removed  from  the  Rue  du  Louvre  to  the  Hotel  de 
Lisieux,  Rue  Fosses-Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois,  and  con- 
verted his  new  residence  into  an  inn,  where  "  persons 
from  the  provinces  were  accommodated  at  thirty  sols 
a  night."  ^  To  this  inn  there  came,  one  fine  day  in  the 
spring  of  1758,  a  handsome  young  man  of  about  five 
and  twenty,  who  informed  the  Arnoulds  that  his  name 
was  Dorval,  that  he  was  an  artist  by  profession,  and  that 
he  had  just  arrived  from  Normandy,  to  study  painting 
and  get  a  play  produced.  M.  Dorval  was  a  model  guest. 
He  never  grumbled  about  his  food  or  his  wine,  never 
questioned  the  amount  of  his  bills,  never  returned  home 

^  Jeze,  L'Etat  ou  U  tableau  de  Paris,   1 760,  cited  by  E.  and  J.  de 
Goncourti 


22  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

with  an  unsteady  gait  or  accompanied  by  undesirable 
acquaintances,  as  did  so  many  young  provincials  who 
aspired  to  imitate  the  vices  of  the  fine  gentlemen  of  the 
capital.  And  then  he  was  so  ingenuous,  so  friendly,  and 
had  such  charming  manners.  He  knew  nothing  of  the 
ways  of  Paris,  he  said,  but,  morblsu  !  he  had  heard  that 
it  was  a  terribly  wicked  place  and  full  of  snares  and  pit- 
falls for  unwary  youth.  Would  M.  Arnould  do  him  the 
favour  of  taking  care  of  his  purse  ?  Would  Madame 
have  the  complaisance  to  do  the  same  for  his  lace  ?  Ah  ! 
it  was  indeed  a  fortunate  hour  which  had  led  him  to  the 
Hotel  de  Lisieux ! 

The  good  people  might  have  thought  it  a  IrLJe  singu- 
lar that  a  young  man  with  so  well-filled  a  purse  and  such 
fine  lace  should  have  selected  so  unpretentious  a  hostelry 
as  theirs  for  a  lengthy  stay ;  also  that,  although  he  never 
looked  askance  at  the  menus  of  the  Hotel  de  Lisieux,  he 
was  constantly  receiving  hampers  containing  fish,  game, 
truffles,  and  choice  wines,  which,  he  said,  came  from  his 
fond  parents  in  Normandy,  and  begged  his  hosts  and  their 
daughter  to  share  with  him.  But  M.  Dorval  quite 
disarmed  suspicion — if  any  existed — by  reading  the  letters 
he  received  from  home  to  the  sympathetic  Madame 
Arnould,  and,  besides,  innkeepers  have  more  important 
matters  requiring  their  attention  than  the  investigation 
of  the  private  affairs  of  their  guests,  particularly  those 
who  give  no  trouble,  pay  regularly,  and  are  so  agreeable 
and  open-handed  as  was  this  young  Norman. 

M.  Dorval  overwhelmed  Madame  Arnould  with 
attention  ;  he  had  literary  tastes,  and  recognised  in  her 
a  kindred  soul.  To  Sophie  he  was  also  attentive, 
though  not  more  so  than  good-breeding  required.  In 
a  short  time  he  had  become  quite  a  friend  of  the  family. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  23 

dining  and  supping  with  them,  escorting  the  ladies  to 
the  Opera  and  home  again  at  the  conclusion  of  the  per- 
formance, and  spending  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  their 
company.  One  night,  after  playing  a  couple  of  games 
of  backgammon  with  M.  Arnould,  Dorval  pleaded  an 
insupportable  headache  and  retired  to  his  modest  apart- 
ment. Soon  afterwards  a  man  in  a  lackey's  livery 
entered  the  house  by  means  of  a  false  key,  knocked  at 
his  door,  and  informed  him  that  all  was  ready.  Dorval 
emerged  from  his  room,  and  was  joined  by  Sophie.  The 
pair  crept  noiselessly  down  the  stairs,  across  the  court- 
yard and  into  the  street,  at  the  corner  of  which  a  coach 
was  awaiting  them.  Dorval  helped  the  girl  in  and  took 
his  seat  beside  her  ;  the  driver  cracked  his  whip  ;  the 
coach  rolled  away.     Sophie  was  carried  off  ! 

Terrible  was  the  consternation  at  the  Hotel  de 
Lisieux  the  following  morning.  Madame  Arnould  was 
like  one  distraught ;  M.  Arnould,  who  had  not  yet  fully 
recovered  from  his  recent  illness,  had  a  serious  relapse. 
As  for  the  Chevalier  de  Malezieux,  when  the  news  was 
communicated  to  him  he  took  to  his  bed  and  never  left 
it  again,  dying  of  grief — or,  perhaps,  of  wounded  vanity. 
In  Paris,  nothing  else  was  talked  of  but  the  elopement  of 
the  queen  of  the  Opera,  and  many  were  the  wagers  made 
about  the  identity  of  the  fortunate  individual  who  had 
borne  away  the  coveted  prize.  All  uncertainty  was  soon 
at  an  end.  Two  days  later  a  letter  was  brought  to  the 
Hotel  de  Lisieux,  signed  Louis,  Comte  de  Brancas- 
Lauraguais,  in  which  the  writer  offered  his  apologies 
to  M.  and  Madame  Arnould  for  the  deception  he  had  been 
obliged  to  practise  upon  them,  and  concluded  by  a  formal 
promise  to  espouse  their  daughter — if  he  should  ever 
become  a  widower  ! 


24    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Madame  Arnould  dried  her  tears ;  M.  Arnould's 
illness  took  a  favourable  turn.  Since  Sophie  had  been 
carried  off,  it  was  at  least  some  consolation  to  learn  that 
her  abductor  was  a  man  of  rank  and  wealth,  and  not  a 
mere  middle-class  libertine ;  one,  too,  who,  without 
doubt,  was  only  prevented  from  giving  his  name  and  all 
that  went  with  it  to  the  object  of  his  affection  by  the 
unfortunate  circumstance  that  he  was  already  provided 
with  a  wife.  The  worthy  pair  quite  forgot  their  disgrace 
as  they  thought  of  the  brilliant  future  which  awaited  their 
daughter,  when  the  earth  should  have  closed  over  poor, 
delicate  Madame  de  Lauraguais — she  lived  till  1793, 
and  her  career  was  ended  by  the  guillotine — and  the 
count's  father,  the  old  Due  de  Lauraguais,  should  have 
gone  the  way  of  all  flesh.  Why,  if  the  Fates  were  kind, 
ere  many  months  had  passed  Sophie  might  be  a  countess 
— nay,  a  duchess  !  And  so  when,  in  due  course,  the 
prodigal  daughter  came,  in  a  magnificent  coach,  to  pay 
a  visit  of  courtesy  to  her  parents,  she  found,  instead  of 
tears  and  reproaches,  caresses  and  pardon.  Such  was 
the  moral  code  of  the  year  of  grace  1758  ! 

Louis  Leon  Felicite  de  Brancas,  Comte  de  Lauraguais, 
the  first  lover  of  Sophie  Arnould,  was  a  singular  creature. 
*'  He  has  all  possible  talents  and  all  possible  eccentrici- 
ties," wrote  Voltaire,  while  Colle  describes  him  as  "  the 
most  serious  fool  in  the  kingdom."  His  conceit  was 
stupendous,  his  extravagance  unbounded,  his  energy 
and  versatility  truly  astonishing  ;  he  dabbled  in  every- 
thing and  confidently  believed  that  he  excelled  in  what- 
ever he  might  choose  to  undertake.  Now  he  was  com- 
posing tragedies  intended  to  eclipse  the  masterpieces  of 
Corneille    and    Racine  ;     now    making    experiments    in 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  25 

chemistry  or  anatomy  which  were  to  completely  revolu- 
tionise those  sciences  ;  anon  writing  treatises  in  favour 
of  inoculation,  or  endeavouring  to  bring  about  reforms 
in  tlic  theatre,^  or  riding  in  horse-races.^  The  violence 
with  which  he  advocated  his  own  views  and  his  unsparing 
denunciations  of  all  who  ventured  to  differ  from  him, 
no  matter  how  highly  placed  they  might  be,  were  per- 
petually bringing  him  into  collision  with  the  authorities, 
and  he  was  several  times  exiled  or  imprisoned,  only  to 
resume  his  eccentric  career  the  moment  his  punishment 
was  at  an  end.     The  stories  about  him  are  numberless. 

On  one  occasion  he  wrote  a  comedy,  entitled  La 
Cour  du  Rot  Petaudy  and  coaxed  his  unsuspecting  father 
to  persuade  the  Comte  de  Saint-Florentin,  the  Minister 
of  the  King's  Household,  to  direct  the  Comedie-Italienne 
to  produce  it.     The  order  was  on  the  point  of  being 

^  The  Comedie-Fran9aise  owed  to  him  an  improvement,  the  importance 
of  which  can  hardly  be  over-estimated.  He  it  was  who  first  proposed  the 
abolition  of  the  custom  of  allowing  the  gens  a  la  mode  to  occupy  seats  upon 
the  stage  itself,  a  custom  which  not  only  interfered  with  the  movements  of 
the  actors,  but  was  utterly  destructive  of  all  scenic  illusion.  The  recon- 
struction of  the  auditorium  which  this  change  rendered  necessary  occupied 
nearly  two  months,  and  cost  40,000  livres,  towards  which  the  count  him- 
self subscribed  12,000  livres. 

'  Lauraguais,  who  affected  Anglomania  among  his  other  eccentricities, 
may  be  said  to  have  introduced  horse-racing  into  France.  The  first  race 
was  run  on  February  28,  1766,  on  the  Plaine  de  Sablons,  at  Neuilly.  It 
was  a  match  between  Lauraguais  and  Lord  Forbes,  the  former  riding  his 
own  horse,  and  was  witnessed  by  an  immense  crowd,  which  had  the  mortifi- 
cation of  seeing  the  French  champion  vanquished.  The  contest  led  to  a 
great  deal  of  unpleasantness,  for,  a  few  days  later,  the  count's  horse  died, 
and  the  surgeons  whom  the  disconsolate  owner  called  in  to  dissect  it  declared 
that  the  animal  had  been  poisoned.  The  English  visitors  were,  of  course, 
suspected,  and  so  great  was  the  outcry  against  them  that  another  match, 
which  had  been  arranged  between  the  Prince  of  Nassau  and  Mr.  Forth,  was 
forbidden  by  the  King. 


26    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

sent,  when  one  of  Saint-Florentin's  secretaries,  happen- 
ing to  glance  through  the  play,  discovered,  to  his  horror, 
that  it  was  nothing  less  than  a  clever  and  biting  satire 
on  certain  idiosyncrasies  of  his  Most  Christian  Majesty 
Louis  XV.  himself,  which,  had  it  been  represented, 
would  most  certainly  have  entailed  banishment  or  the 
Bastille  on  all  concerned  in  its  production.^ 

On  another,  he  appeared,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, at  the  lodging  of  two  poor  but  talented  young 
chemists,  hustled  them  into  a  coach  which  was  in  waiting, 
and  carried  them  off  to  Sevres,  where  he  had  a  little  house, 
in  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  conducting  his  chemical 
experiments.  Leading  his  companions  to  the  laboratory, 
he  addressed  them  as  follows  :  "  Messieurs,  I  wish  you 
to  make  certain  experiments  ;  you  will  not  leave  this 
house  until  they  are  completed.  Adieu ;  I  shall  return 
a  week  hence  ;  you  will  find  here  everything  you  require  ; 
the  servants  have  orders  to  attend  to  your  wants  ;  set 
to   work."     So   saying,    he   locked    them    in   and   went 

^  CoUe,  Journal  et  Memoires,  iii.  47  et  seq.  C0II6  declares  that  there 
was  a  scene  in  this  play  worthy  of  Moliere  himself.  King  Petaud  appears 
dressed  as  a  cook,  with  a  white  cap  on  his  head  and  a  knife  by  his  side.  He 
has  just  made  some  fates,  which  he  hands  round  to  his  obsequious  courtiers, 
who  pronounce  them  divine,  delicious,  inimitable,  and  so  forth.  One  grey- 
haired  old  gentleman  however  refrains  from  joining  in  the  general  chorus  of 
admiration,  and  when  the  King,  piqued  by  his  indifference,  inquires  the 
reason,  replies  :  "  Pardon  me,  Sire  ;  the  fates  are  indeed  excellent.  But, 
if  your  Majesty  will  permit  me  to  speak  without  flattery,  I  would  venture  to 
observe  that  the  woodcock-pie  which  you  made  the  day  before  yesterday 
appeared  to  me  infinitely  superior  to  them."  Thereupon  the  King's 
brow  clears,  and,  clapping  the  astute  old  man  on  the  shoulder,  he  exclaims : 
"  That  is  right ;  I  always  like  people  to  tell  me  the  truth."  Louis  XV., 
as  every  one  knows,  was  very  fond  of  preparing  dishes  with  his  own  royal 
hands,  and  decidedly  vain  of  his  culinary  skill,  and  no  one  with  any  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Court  could  possibly  have  missed  the  point  of  the  satire. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  27 

away.  When  he  returned,  the  young  chemists  com- 
municated to  him  the  result  of  their  labours,  a  discovery 
of  some  little  importance,  upon  which  he  offered  them  a 
sum  of  money  if  they  would  agree  to  surrender  to  him 
the  credit  of  having  made  it.  "  You,"  said  he,  "  have 
genius,  and  you  want  money.  I  have  money,  and  I  want 
genius.  Let  us  strike  a  bargain.  You  shall  have  clothes 
to  wear,  and  the  glory  shall  be  mine."  The  young 
chemists  consented,  and  Lauraguais  went  about  boasting 
everywhere  of  the  discovery  he  had  made  ;  and  such, 
says  Diderot,  who  tells  the  story,  was  his  conceit  that 
he  soon  succeeded  in  persuading  himself  that  it  was  he 
to  whom  the  credit  really  belonged,  and  that  the  young 
men  had  done  nothing,  except  render  him  some  merely 
mechanical  assistance.^ 

A  third  story  of  this  extraordinary  man  is  even  more 
amusing  than  the  preceding  one.  He  appears  to  have 
had  a  theory  that  it  would  be  possible  for  a  person  to 
support  life  entirely  on  a  diet  of  forced  fruit,  provided 
that  they  were  kept  in  the  same  temperature  as  was 
required  for  the  production  of  what  they  consumed. 
He,  therefore,  persuaded  one  of  his  mistresses  to  allow 
herself  to  be  shut  up  in  a  green-house  and  fed  upon 
grapes,  pine-apples,  and  so  forth.  This  regimen,  as  may 
be  supposed,  did  not  agree  with  the  lady,  who  soon 
declared  that  she  was  starving.  "  Ungrateful  girl  !  " 
exclaimed  the  disgusted  count.  "  Can  you  complain 
of  not  having  sufficient  to  eat — a  trivial  matter  at  best — 
while  you  are  thus  abundantly  supplied  with  the  luxuries 
that  every  one  longs  for  ?  " 

So  eccentric  a  character  as  Lauraguais  was  hardly 
calculated  to  make  any  woman  happy,  whether  wife 
'  Diderot,  Memoires  ei  Correspondance^  ii.  62. 


28  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

or  mistress,  and  Sophie  declared  long  afterwards  that 
the  count  "  had  given  her  two  million  kisses  and  caused 
her  to  shed  four  million  tears."  Nevertheless,  the 
liaison  was  a  tolerably  long  one,  and,  for  the  first  three 
years,  in  the  course  of  which  the  actress  presented  her 
lover  with  two  children,  we  are  assured  that  they  were 
a  most  affectionate  couple.  By  the  police-reports  of  the 
time,  Sophie  is  represented  as  an  extravagant,  grasping 
and  avaricious  woman,  who  cared  for  the  count  only  so 
long  as  he  was  able  and  willing  to  gratify  her  innumerable 
caprices.  Extravagant  she  no  doubt  was,  but  in  regard 
to  the  other  and  graver  charge,  she  would  appear  to  have 
been  maligned,  that  is  to  say,  if  we  are  to  place  any 
reliance  in  the  following  anecdote  related  by  Diderot  : 

"  For  some  days  past  a  rumour  has  been  current  that 
Mile.  Arnould  is  dead,  but  it  requires  confirmation.  In 
the  meanwhile,  the  Abbe  Raynal  has  made  me  her 
funeral  oration,  by  relating  to  me  some  fragments  of  a 
conversation  which  passed  between  her  and  Madame 
Portail  [the  wife  of  a  president  of  the  Parliament  of 
Paris],  in  which,  it  appears,  the  latter  played  the  part 
of  a  wanton,  and  the  little  actress  that  of  an  honest 
woman  : 

"  '  Is  it  possible.  Mademoiselle,  that  you  have  no 
diamonds  ?  ' 

"  '  No,  Madame,  nor  do  I  think  them  necessary  for 
a  little  bourgeoise  of  the  Rue  du  Four.' 

"  '  Then,  I  presume,  you  have  an  allowance  ?  ' 

"  *  An  allowance  !  Why  should  I  have  that,  Madame? 
M.  de  Lauraguais  has  a  wife,  children,  a  position  to 
maintain,  and  I  do  not  sec  that  I  could  honourably 
accept  the  smallest  part  of  a  fortune  which  legitimately 
belongs  to  others.' 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  29 

"  '  Oh,  far  ma  foi  !  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should 
leave  him.' 

"  '  That  may  be,  but  he  likes  me,  and  I  like  him.  It 
may  have  been  imprudent  to  take  him,  but,  since  I  have 
done  so,  I  shall  keep  him.' 

"  I  do  not  recollect  the  remainder  of  the  conversa- 
tion, but  I  have  an  idea  that  it  was  as  dishonourable  on 
the  part  of  the  president's  wife  as  honourable  on  the  part 
of  the  actress."  ^ 

If  Lauraguais  really  was  so  generous  a  protector  at 
the  police-reports  and  those  writers  who  accept  them 
would  have  us  believe,  it  is  certainly  rather  surprising 
to  find  on  November  13,  1759,  when  the  count's  passion 
for  his  mistress  was  undoubtedly  at  a  very  high  tempera- 
ture, the  sieur  Jean  Baptiste  Delamarre,  tipstaff  to  the 
Chdtelet  de  Paris,  acting  on  behalf  of  the  sieur  Jean 
Baptiste  Desper,  perruquier,  requiring  the  attendance 
of  a  commissary  of  police  to  witness  an  execution  upon 
the  goods  of  the  demoiselle  Madeleine  Sophie  Arnould, 
residing  on  the  first  floor  of  a  house  in  the  Rue  de  Riche- 
lieu. The  said  demoiselle,  it  appeared,  had,  twelve 
months  before,  taken  the  apartment  in  question,  on  a 
lease  for  three,  six,  or  nine  years,  at  an  annual  rental  of 
2400  livres  ;  but  the  perruquier  had  not  as  yet  seen  any 
part  of  that  sum.  The  goods  seized  were  left  in  the  charge 
of  one  Chevalier,  fruiterer  of  the  Rue  Traversiere, 
parish  of  Saint-Roch,  from  whom,  we  may  presume, 
Sophie  or  Lauraguais  subsequently  redeemed  them.^ 

After  her  elopement  with  the  Comte  de  Lauraguais, 

'  Metnoires  et  Correspondance,  ii.  42, 

*  Campardon,  Acadimie  Royale  de  Musiqve  au  XV 111*  siide :   Article, 
"  Arnould." 


30  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Sophie  became  more  than  ever  the  idol  of  the  public, 
and,  for  the  next  few  years,  might  without  exaggeration 
have  parodied  the  famous  mot  of  le  Grand  Monarque 
and  exclaimed  :  "  U  Opera,  c'est  moi  !  "  Never,  de- 
clared both  public  and  critics,  had  the  heroines  of  lyrical 
tragedy :  the  Psyches,  the  Proserpines,  the  Thisbds, 
the  Iphises,  and  the  Cleopatres,  found  so  worthy  a  repre- 
sentative, and,  no  matter  how  insipid  the  opera  which 
related  the  story  of  their  woes  might  happen  to  be,  the 
young  singer  was  always  sure  of  an  enthusiastic  reception. 
The  patrons  of  the  Palais-Royal  seemed  indeed  as  if  they 
could  not  have  enough  of  her  ;  the  directors,  who  owed 
to  her  popularity  their  increased  receipts,  were  at  her 
feet ;  every  one  adored  her,  or  pretended  to  do  so,  and 
every  one  trembled  before  her  epigrams. 

For  side  by  side  with  her  reputation  as  a  singer  and 
actress,  Sophie  was  building  up  another  reputation,  and 
one  which  was  to  endure  long  after  her  stage  triumphs 
had  been  forgotten  :  that  of  a  diseur  de  bons  mots,  and  of 
bons  mots  of  a  peculiarly  caustic  kind.  Few  indeed  were 
the  wits  of  her  time — and  they  were  plentiful  enough 
in  the  eighteenth  century — who  cared  to  cross  swords 
with  her,  and  such  was  the  dread  which  her  sharp  tongue 
inspired  that  people  imagined  they  detected  a  sarcasm 
lurking  even  in  her  most  innocent  remark,  as  the  following 
incident  will  show. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Royal  Family  of  France  to 
dine  in  public  (au  grand  convert)  on  certain  days  of  the 
week,  and  any  respectably  dressed  person  was  permitted 
to  view  his  Most  Christian  King  partaking  of  his  soup 
or  his  venison.  In  the  days  of  Louis  XIV.,  who,  if  his 
sister-in-law,  the  Princess  Palatine,  is  to  be  believed, 
was  in  the  habit  of  disposing  at  a  single  meal  of  as  much 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  31 

as  would  suffice  an  ordinary  person  for  at  least  three, ^  a 
dinner  au  grand  convert  must  have  been  a  spectacle 
worth  going  a  long  way  to  see  ;  but  as  "  the  Well- 
Beloved  "  had  no  pretensions  to  emulate  the  gastronomic 
feats  of  his  predecessor,  the  ceremony  was  now  shorn  of 
much  of  its  former  interest,  Sophie,  who  had  never 
yet  enjoyed  a  near  view  of  her  sovereign,  expressed  one 
day  a  desire  to  attend  one  of  these  dinners,  and  a  noble 
admirer,  accordingly,  conducted  her  to  Versailles  and 
into  the  Salon  de  Grand  Convert,  where  he  placed  her 
exactly  opposite  the  King.  His  Majesty  was  in  the  act 
of  raising  his  glass  to  his  lips  when  he  caught  her  eye. 
At  the  same  moment  Sophie  remarked,  half-involun- 
tarily,  to  her  companion  :  "  The  King  drinks  !  "  Louis, 
who  had  heard  much  of  the  young  lady's  biting  wit,  was 
apparently  under  the  impression  that  these  simple  words 
were  intended  as  a  covert  jest  at  his  expense,  and  became 
so  embarrassed  that  every  one  present  noticed  it.  Finally, 
he  motioned  to  Sophie  to  withdraw,  which  she  did, 
reflecting  that  a  reputation  as  a  wit  sometimes  has  its 
drawbacks. 

To  appreciate  the  witticisms  of  Sophie  Arnould  as 
they  deserve,  they  must  be  read  in  the  language  in  which 
they  were  uttered,  for,  when  translated,  the  point  of 
many  of  them — plays  upon  names  and  so  forth — is  lost. 
Not  a  few,  too,  of  her  most  pungent  sayings  will  scarcely 
bear  reproduction  in  a  modern  work,  for  her  wit  was 
essentially  the  wit  of  the  coulisses,  whose  frequenters 
were  seldom  at  any  pains  to  curb  their  tongues,  even 

^  Here,  according  to  that  princess,  was  one  of  le  Grand  Monarque''s  feats 
in  gastronomy :  "  Four  platefuls  of  different  soups,  a  whole  pheasant,  a 
partridge,  a  plateful  of  salad,  mutton  hashed  with  garlic,  two  good-sized 
slices  of  ham,  and  afterwards  fruit  and  sweetmeats." 


32  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

in  the  presence  of  the  highest  in  the  land.  Fortunately, 
however,  there  still  remain  a  considerable  number  of 
mots  which  may  be  rendered  into  English  with  tolerable 
fidelity  and  without  injuring  the  susceptibilities  of  even 
the  most  fastidious  of  readers. 

Sophie  was  an  inveterate  punster,  a  form  of  wit 
more  appreciated  in  the  eighteenth  century  than  it  is 
to-day.  Here  is  one,  however,  which  most  of  us  will 
find  it  hard  not  to  forgive. 

The  Due  de  Bouillon  became  so  enamoured  of  the 
charms  of  a  young  singer  named  Mile.  Laguerre  that,  in 
the  course  of  three  months,  he  was  reported  to  have 
squandered  upon  her  no  less  a  sum  than  800,000  livres. 
This  prodigality  greatly  exasperated  the  creditors  of 
the  duke,  who  complained  to  the  King  himself,  with  the 
result  that  the  infatuated  nobleman  received  orders  to 
retire  to  his  country-seat.  A  few  days  later,  some  one, 
meeting  Sophie,  happened  to  inquire  after  the  health  of 
Mile.  Laguerre.  "  I  do  not  know  how  she  is  at  present," 
was  the  reply ;  "  but  for  the  last  month  the  poor  child 
has  been  living  entirely  on  soup  {bouillon)  ^ 

This  same  Mile.  Laguerre  created  the  principal  role 
inPiccini's  Ifhigenie  en  Tauride,  produced  on  January  22, 
1 78 1.  At  the  first  performance  she  sang  admirably 
and  contributed  largely  to  the  enthusiastic  reception 
it  received  ;  but  on  the  second  evening  her  efforts  were 
but  too  obviously  inspired  by  wine.  "  Mon  Dieu  J  " 
exclaimed  Sophie.  "  This  is  not  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  ; 
it  is  Iphigenia  in  Champagne  !  " 

Mile.  Laguerre  was  only  one  among  many  of  Sophie's 
colleagues  to  suffer  from  the  sharpness  of  that  lady's 
tongue.  She  was  particularly  severe  upon  the  famous 
danseuse  Mile.  Guimard,  the  subject  of  our  next  sketch, 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  33 

whose  many  wealthy  conquests  would  appear  to  have 
excited  her  jealousy.  Mile.  Guimard,  though  the  very 
embodiment  of  grace  and  elegance  upon  the  stage,  was 
slender  almost  to  attenuation,  and  Sophie  dubbed  her 
"  la  squelette  des  Graces.''^  Seeing  her  one  evening 
performing  a  -pas  de  trots  with  two  male  dancers,  she 
declared  that  it  put  her  in  mind  of  a  couple  of  dogs 
quarrelling  over  a  bone.  On  another  occasion,  when  the 
danseuse^s  well-known  liaison  with  Jarente,  Bishop  of 
Orleans,  the  holder  of  the  feuille  of  benefices,  happened 
to  be  the  subject  of  conversation,  she  remarked  :  "  I 
cannot  conceive  why  that  little  silk-worm  is  so  thin  ; 
she  lives  upon  such  a  good  leaf  (feuille). ^^ 

Another  butt  of  her  sarcasm  was  Mile.  Beaumesnil, 
who,  after  gallantries  innumerable,  married  a  singer 
of  the  Opera,  named  Belcourt.  By  that  time  her 
charms  were  on  the  wane,  and,  making  a  virtue  of  neces- 
sity, she  became  a  model  wife.  One  day,  some  one 
speaking  of  her  early  career,  observed  that  she  had  then 
been  like  a  weather-cock,  veering  round  to  a  new  lover 
every  day.  "  Just  so,"  answered  Sophie,  "  and  very  like 
a  weather-cock  in  this  also,  that  she  did  not  become 
fixed  till  she  was  rusty." 

But  Sophie  was  very  far  from  confining  her  witticism 
to  her  comrades  of  the  Opera  ;  no  one  was  safe  from  her 
shafts.  When  the  intriguing  old  Due  de  la  Vauguyon, 
the  Dauphin's  governor,  who  had  done  his  best  to  sow 
dissension  between  that  prince  and  Marie  Antoinette, 
died,  he  was  regretted  by  no  one.  The  day  after  his 
death,  the  opera  of  Castor  et  Pollux  was  played.  In 
this  piece  there  was  a  ballet  of  devils,  which  on  this 
particular  evening  went  all  wrong,  whereupon  Sophie 
observed  that  the  devils  were  so  much  upset  by  M.  de 

c 


34    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

la  Vauguyon's  arrival  among  them  that  their  heads  were 
turned. 

M.  de  Boynes,  who  succeeded  the  Due  de  Choiseul- 
Praslin  as  Minister  of  Marine,  in  1670,  was  an  honest 
and  well-meaning  man,  but  entirely  ignorant  of  the  duties 
of  that  important  post.  One  evening  he  appeared  at 
the  Opera,  where  the  scene  on  the  stage  represented 
a  ship  on  a  stormy  sea.  "  Oh,  how  fortunate  !  "  ex- 
claimed Sophie.  "  He  has  come  here  to  get  some  idea 
of  the  Navy." 

Better  perhaps  was  her  remark  about  the  Abbe  Terrai, 
the  detested  Comptroller-General  of  Finance,  whose 
expedients  for  raising  money  excited  so  much  indignation 
in  the  last  years  of  Louis  XV.  The  abbe,  who  suffered 
from  a  defective  circulation,  was  seen,  one  bitter  winter's 
day,  with  his  hands  hidden  in  a  huge  muif.  "  What 
need  has  he  of  a  muff  ?  "  asked  the  actress.  "  Are  not 
his  hands  always  in  our  pockets  ?  " 

The  Ministers,  indeed,  seem  to  have  been  very 
favourite  objects  of  Sophie's  sarcasm.  On  being  shown 
a  snuff-box,  with  the  head  of  the  Due  de  Choiseul  on  one 
side,  and  that  of  Sully,  the  great  Minister  of  Henri  IV. 
on  the  other,  she  exclaimed  :  "  Tiens  !  they  have  put 
the  receipts  and  the  expenses  together." 

The  liaison  between  Sophie  and  the  Comte  de 
Lauraguais  was,  as  might  be  expected,  from  the  singular 
character  of  the  latter,  not  untroubled  by  storms.  The 
count,  though  honestly  attached  to  his  mistress,  was 
jealous,  suspicious,  headstrong,  and  passionate,  always 
full  of  some  new  and  frequently  wild  project  or  other, 
with  which  he  expected  her  to  sympathise,  while  the 
slightest  opposition  to  his  wishes  was  sufficient  to  throw 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  35 

him  into  such  paroxysms  of  rage  that  it  was  dangerous 
to  approach  him.^  At  times,  he  led  poor  Sophie  a 
terrible  life,  and  over  and  over  again  she  was  on  the  point 
of  leaving  him.  At  last,  in  the  autumn  of  1761,  after 
their  irregular  union  had  lasted  about  three  years,  it 
came  temporarily  to  a  close. 

Lauraguais  had  written  a  tragedy  on  the  not  very 
novel  subject  of  Iphigenia  in  Tauris.^  He  had  dedicated 
it  to  Voltaire,  and,  so  soon  as  it  was  completed,  set  out 
for  Ferney,  to  read  it  to  the  Patriarch.  It  would  appear 
that,  for  some  time  past,  the  count's  vagaries  had  been 
more  than  usually  difficult  to  endure — possibly  the  labours 
of  composition  had  not  been  without  their  effect  upon 
his  temper.  Any  way,  Sophie  resolved  to  profit  by  this 
moment  of  liberty,  and  no  sooner  had  her  tyrannical 
lover  left  Paris,  than  she  ordered  her  coach — a  present 

^  Some  writers  declare  that,  in  his  passions,  he  would  destroy  everything 
breakable  within  his  reach  ;  others,  that  he  went  so  far  as  to  strike  and  even, 
occasionally,  to  bite  the  unfortunate  Sophie. 

'  He  had  previously  written  a  Clytemnestre,  which  Diderot,  having  had 
the  privilege  of  hearing  the  author  read  it,  tells  us  contained  some  very  fine 
verses,  the  work,  however,  not  of  the  count,  but  of  a  "ghost  "  in  his  employ, 
named  Clinchant.  This  play  Lauraguais  endeavoured  to  prevail  upon  the 
Comedic-Fran9aise  to  produce.  The  actors  found  themselves  in  a  some- 
what embarrassing  position,  as  the  count  had  just  subscribed  the  1 2,000 
livrcs  already  mentioned  towards  the  alterations  in  the  theatre  necessitated 
by  the  removal  of  the  seats  on  the  stage,  and,  from  motives  of  gratitude, 
they  did  not  like  to  refuse.  On  the  other  hand,  the  tragedy  was  so  utterly 
opposed  to  all  the  canons  of  dramatic  art  that  to  produce  it  would  be  to 
court  not  only  failure  but  ridicule.  Eventually,  however,  they  persuaded 
him  to  withdraw  his  offer.  Notwithstanding  its  rejection  by  the  Comedic- 
Fran9aisc,  Lauraguais  thought  so  highly  of  his  Clytemnestre  that  he  caused 
it  to  be  printed,  and  sent  a  copy  to  Voltaire,  who  wrote  back  that  his  own 
Oreste  was  but  "  une  -plate  machine,^'  in  comparison  with  M.  le  Comte's 
superb  masterpiece.  The  noble  author,  says  Diderot,  took  the  poet  quite 
seriously,  and  his  delight  and  pride  knew  no  bounds. 


36    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

from  the  absent  Lauraguais — threw  into  it  pell-mell 
everything  portable  that  she  had  ever  received  from  him  : 
jewellery,  plate,  lace,  porcelain,  and  so  forth,  placed  the 
two  children  whom  she  had  borne  him  on  the  top,  and 
despatched  the  whole  cargo  to  the  Hotel  de  Lauraguais, 
Rue  de  Lille,  with  a  note  for  Madame  de  Lauraguais, 
in  which  she  stated  that  "  having  resolved  to  recover 
her  freedom,  she  did  not  wish  to  retain  anything  which 
might  serve  to  remind  her  of  her  unhappy  love-affair."  ^ 
Madame  de  Lauraguais,  who  was  a  good  and  long- 
suffering  woman,  accepted  the  children,  "  regretting 
very  much  that  they  were  not  her  own,"  but  sent  back 
the  coach  and  the  rest  of  its  contents. 

At  the  same  time,  Sophie  wrote  to  Ferney  the  follow- 
ing letter  : 

"  Monsieur,  mon  cher  ami, — You  have  written  a  very 
fine  tragedy,  so  fine  that  I  can  no  more  understand  it 
than  your  other  proceedings.  You  have  gone  to  Geneva, 
to  receive  a  crown  of  the  laurels  of  Parnassus  from  the 
hands  of  M.  de  Voltaire,  leaving  me  alone  and  abandoned 
to  myself.  I  profit  by  my  liberty,  that  liberty  so  precious 
to  philosophers  to  leave  you.  Do  not  take  it  ill  that 
I  am  weary  of  living  with  a  madman  who  dissected  his 

^  Diderot,  Correspondance  et  Memoires,  ii,  69.  Diderot,  who  had  a  high 
opinion  of  Sophie  and  was  also  a  friend  of  Lauraguais,  was  much  distressed 
by  her  conduct.  Under  date  October  7,  1761,  he  writes  to  Mile.  Voland  : 
"  This  affair  displeases  me  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  This  girl  had  two 
children  by  him  (Lauraguais)  ;  he  was  the  man  of  her  choice  ;  there  had  been 
no  constraint,  no  self-interest,  none  of  those  things  which  go  to  make 
ordinary  engagements.  If  ever  there  was  a  sacrament,  this  was  one  ; 
so  much  the  more  so,  since  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  a  man  to  espouse 
only  one  woman.  She  forgets  that  she  is  married.  She  forgets  that  she 
is  a  mother.  It  is  not  only  a  lover ;  it  is  the  father  of  her  children  whom 
she  is  leaving.  Mile.  Arnould  is  something  more  in  my  eyes  than  a  little 
baggage." 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  37 

coachman,  and  who  wished  to  act  as  my  accoucheur, 
with  the  intention  of  dissecting  me  also.  Allow  me, 
therefore,  to  remove  myself  out  of  reach  of  your  philo- 
sophic bistoury."  ^ 

When  the  Comtc  de  Lauraguais  received  the  afore- 
going epistle  he  was  so  overcome  that  he  clutched  his 
valet  by  the  shoulder,  exclaiming  :  "  Support  me,  Fabien  ; 
this  blow  is  more  than  I  can  bear  !  "  Then,  bidding  a 
hasty  adieu  to  Voltaire,  he  posted  off  to  Paris  and  tried, 
by  promises,  threats,  and  every  means  he  could  think 
of,  to  induce  his  mistress  to  return  to  him.  All  his  efforts 
were,  however,  fruitless,  and  soon  afterwards  Sophie 
placed  the  comble  upon  his  misery  by  "  coming  to  an 
arrangement  "  with  M.  Bertin,  a  wealthy  financier.^ 

The  gallantry  of  the  eighteenth  century,  it  should  be 
understood,  had  its  etiquette,  which  was  strictly  observed 
by  all  who  wished  to  be  thought  men  of  honour.  Before 
even  approaching  Sophie  on  tne  matter,  M.  Bertin 
wrote  to  the  Comte  de  Lauraguais,  to  inform  him  that, 
having  been  given  to  understand  that  all  was  at  end 
between  the  count  and  Mile.  Arnould,  he  proposed  to 
take  the  lady  in  question  under  his  protection,  if  she 
were  willing  to  honour  him  by  accepting  it.     Sophie 

1  Favart,  Memoires  et  Correspondance,  i.  195.  Several  writers  refuse 
to  accept  this  letter  as  genuine,  believing  that  Favart  invented  it.  It 
must  be  admitted,  however,  that  its  dry  humour  is  very  characteristic  of 
Sophie. 

^  Mr.  Sutherland  Edwards,  in  his  "  Idols  of  the  French  Stage  "  (vol.  i. 
p.  181),  falls  into  a  singular  error.  He  states  that,  on  his  return  to  Paris, 
Lauraguais  found  that  Sophie  "  had  placed  herself  under  the  protection 
of  M.  de  Saint-Florentin,  for  whom,  however,  she  had  no  affection."  Sophie 
did  certainly  place  herself  under  the  protection  of  Saint-Florentin  ;  but  it 
was  not  his  private  but  his  official  protection,  as  Minister  for  Paris  and  Chief 
of  the  Police ;  a  not  altogether  unnecessary  precaution,  since  Lauraguais 
had  threatened  to  poison  her. 


445153 


38  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

consented,  on  certain  conditions ;  Lauraguais  sorrowfully 
withdrew,  and  M.  Bertin  gave  a  supper-party,  at  which 
he  formally  presented  Mile.  Arnould  to  his  friends. 

M.  Bertin  was  not  only  rich  and  generous,  but  easy- 
going, good-tempered,  and  practical ;  in  fact,  the  very 
antithesis  of  his  erratic  predecessor.  He  had  lately 
been  cruelly  deceived  by  Mile.  Hus,  a  star  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise,  his  admiration  for  whom  is  said  to  have  cost 
him  something  like  a  million  livres,  and  his  heart  posi- 
tively yearned  for  sympathy  and  affection.  But  alas  ! 
Sophie  had  none  to  give  him.  It  was  in  vain  that  he 
paid  her  debts  ;  that  he  provided  a  handsome  dowry 
for  one  of  her  sisters ;  that  he  commissioned  a  celebrated 
coachbuilder  of  the  singular  name  of  Antechrist  to 
construct  for  her  an  equipage  which  was  the  envy  and 
admiration  of  all  the  ladies  in  Paris ;  that  he  loaded  her 
with  diamonds.  The  actress  soon  decided  that  poor 
M.  Bertin  was  dull,  wearisome,  altogether  insupportable, 
and  began  to  look  about  for  fresh  conquests. 

She  had  not  far  to  look.  So  soon  as  it  was  known 
that  the  adorable  Mile.  Arnould  was  no  longer  inacces- 
sible, all  the  admirers  whom  the  jealous  transports  of 
Lauraguais  had  kept  at  a  respectful  distance  flocked 
around  her,  and  Sophie,  having  broken  with  the  man 
who  had  possessed  her  heart,  threw  scruples  to  the  winds, 
and  bestowed  her  favours  upon  several  gallants,  varying 
in  social  position — or,  at  least,  so  M.  de  Sartines's  in- 
spectors reported — from  the  Prince  de  Conti  to  a  hand- 
some young  friseur,  who  called  daily  to  dress  the  lady's 
hair. 

But,  in  spite  of  these  "  fassades "  and  the  lavish 
generosity  wherewith  her  titular  protector  sought  to 
gain  her  affections,  love  for  Lauraguais  still  smouldered 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  39 

in  Sophie's  breast,  and,  at  the  beginning  of  the  following 
year,  only  a  few  days  after  the  enamoured  M.  Bertin 
had  bestowed  upon  her  the  sum  of  12,000  livres,  by  way 
of  a  New  Year's  gift,  all  Paris  was  astonished  to  hear 
that  she  had  thrown  over  the  financier  and  returned  to 
the  count. 

At  first,  the  public  was  inclined  to  applaud  what  it 
was  pleased  to  consider  the  rare  disinterestedness  of  the 
lady  in  preferring  a  comparatively  poor  admirer  to  an 
exceptionally  wealthy  one.  But  when  it  became  known 
that  poor  Bertin's  brief  reign  had  cost  him  over  100,000 
livres,  exclusive  of  the  New  Year's  gift  mentioned  above, 
it  veered  round,  and  Bachaumont  reports  that  the  general 
impression  was  that  the  financier  had  been  very  hardly 
treated.  He  himself  expresses  the  opinion  that  the 
favoured  lover  was  in  honour  bound  to  indemnify  the 
abandoned  one  for  the  very  large  sums  he  had  expended 
on  the  capricious  Sophie,  and  that,  as  this  had  not  been 
done.  Mile.  Arnould  must  be  held  to  have  gained  the 
affection  of  tender  and  susceptible  hearts  on  false  pre- 
tences, and  must  therefore — morally  at  least — "  be  rele- 
gated to  the  crowd  of  women  from  whom  she  had  been 
drawn."  ^ 

It  is  only  fair  to  Lauraguais  to  say  that,  very  soon 
after  this  was  written,  he  gave  the  lie  to  the  rumour  that 
Sophie's  liaison  with  Bertin  had  been  nothing  but  an 
ingenious  speculation  on  the  part  of  that  lady,  by  refund- 
ing to  his  discomfited  rival  all  that  he  had  disbursed  on 
her  behalf,  so  that,  in  the  end,  the  financier  "  lost  nothing 
except  the  most  charming  woman  in  Paris." 

The  second  stage  of  the  liaison  between  Sophie  and 

*  Memoires  secrets  de  la  Ripublique  des  Lettres. 


40  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Lauraguais  was  not  less  stormy  than  the  first ;  in  fact, 
it  might  quite  as  appropriately  be  called  a  renewal  of 
hostilities  as  a  renewal  of  love.  A  week  or  two  of  bliss, 
and  then  their  quarrels  recommenced,  more  frequent 
and  more  violent  than  before.  After  what  had  passed, 
the  count  felt  that  he  had  the  right  to  be  suspicious,  and 
he  took  the  fullest  advantage  of  it.  Almost  every  day 
there  were  angry  accusations,  indignant  denials,  bitter 
reproaches,  and  floods  of  tears,  followed  by  apologies, 
vows  of  amendment,  and  reconciliation.  Never  was 
there  a  more  singular  pair  of  lovers.  They  seem  to  have 
been  perpetually  separating  and  coming  together  again, 
for,  though  life  with  one  another  was  intolerable,  they 
were  even  more  unhappy  apart ;  while  if  any  misfortune 
happened  to  befall  either  of  them,  however  strained 
their  relations  at  the  time  might  be,  all  grievances  were 
straightway  forgotten.  An  instance  of  this  occurred 
towards  the  end  of  the  following  year. 

The  practice  of  inoculation  for  the  small-pox,  which 
had  been  introduced  into  England  by  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  Montagu  early  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
had  hitherto  made  but  little  progress  in  France,  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  it  had  had  several  distin- 
guished advocates,  including  Voltaire  and  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau.  Towards  the  year  1763,  however,  a  strong 
movement  in  its  favour  took  place,  in  consequence  of 
which  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  on  the  requisition  of  the 
Advocate-General,  Joly  de  Fleury,  passed  a  decree 
prohibiting  inoculation  until  the  Faculties  of  Medicine 
and  Theology  should  have  pronounced  a  definite  opinion 
on  the  subject. 

The  decree  roused  the  indignation  of  Lauraguais, 
who  was  one  of  the  warmest  supporters  of  the  innovation, 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  41 

and  his  indignation  vented  itself  in  a  Memoire  sur  Vinocu- 
latioUy  wherein  M.  Joly  de  Fleury  was  very  roughly 
handled.  This  memoir  he  read  before  the  Academic 
des  Sciences,  of  which  he  was  a  member,  and  demanded 
permission  to  print  it.  The  Academy  at  first  demurred, 
but  ultimately  gave  its  consent,  on  the  understanding 
that  the  references  to  the  Advocate-General  should  be 
expunged.  Apparently  this  condition  was  not  observed, 
for  the  publication  of  the  memoir  was  followed  by  an 
acrimonious  correspondence,  ending  with  a  lettre  de 
cachet,  which  directed  that  M.  le  Comte  de  Lauraguais 
should  be  conveyed  to  Metz  and  imprisoned  in  the 
citadel  during  his  Majesty's  pleasure.^ 

On  learning  of  the  arrest  of  her  lover,  Sophie  was  in 
despair.  She  closed  her  salon  and  put  on  mourning. 
The  few  friends  who  were  permitted  to  intrude  upon 
her  sorrow  found  her  dissolved  in  tears,  and  went  about 
declaring  that  nothing  so  pathetic  had  ever  been  seen 
before.  The  Abbe  de  Voisenon  wrote  to  the  imprisoned 
count,  describing  in  touching  language  the  actress's 
grief,  and  felicitating  him  on  having  found  a  faithful 
mistress  at  the  Opera ;  a  piece  of  good  fortune,  said  the 
abbe,  so  remarkable  that  it  ought  to  go  far  to  console 
him  for  his  captivity  : 

"  Ne  te  plains  pas  de  ton  malheur, 
Du  coeur  de  La  Valli^re  il  te  fournit  la  preuve, 
On  assure  qu'Arnould  se  souvient  d'etre  veuve 
Et  que  de  sa  Constance  elle  fait  son  bonheur." 

Lauraguais's  family  and  friends  did  everything  in 
their  power  to  procure  his  release  ;  but  both  Louis  XV. 
and  Choiseul  had  come  to  regard  that  nobleman  as  a 

^  Grimm,  Correspondance  litterat'rey  in.  297. 


42    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

public  nuisance,  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their  appeals. 
And  so  the  count  remained  for  some  four  months  at 
Metz,  and  might  have  remained  a  good  deal  longer,  had 
not  a  fortunate  chance  enabled  Sophie  to  intervene  on 
his  behalf. 

On  November  2,  the  opera  of  Dardanus  was  played 
before  the  Court,  at  Fontainebleau,  Sophie  taking  the 
part  of  the  heroine  Iphise,  one  of  her  most  successful 
impersonations.  On  this  occasion  she  appears  to  have 
surpassed  herself,  and  even  the  bored  King  was  moved 
to  something  like  admiration.  Profiting  by  the  impres- 
sion she  had  created,  without  waiting  to  doff  the  robes 
of  Iphise,  she  begged  for  a  few  minutes'  conversation 
with  the  Due  de  Choiseul,  and,  throwing  herself  at  his 
feet,  besought  him  to  release  her  lover.  "  The  heart  of 
the  gallant  and  all-powerful  Minister  was  touched,  and 
he  had  not  the  courage  to  refuse  to  this  beautiful  and 
tearful  Iphise  the  return  of  her  Dardanus."  ^ 

Lauraguais  returned  more  infatuated  than  ever. 
Gratitude  had  redoubled  his  love  for  his  mistress ;  never 
had  she  appeared  to  him  more  adorable.  Declaring  that 
it  was  his  intention  to  consecrate  to  her  alone  the  liberty 
which  he  owed  to  her,  he  installed  himself  at  Sophie's 
house,  as  in  the  early  days  of  their  liaison,  and  refused 
even  to  see  his  unfortunate  wife,  whom  he  unjustly 
suspected  of  having  been  a  trifle  lukewarm  in  her  efforts 
to  obtain  his  release.  This  was  a  little  too  much  for 
the  endurance  even  of    that   long-suffering  lady,   and, 

'  Arnoldiana.  According  to  another  account,  Choiseul  came  to  Sophie's 
dressing-room,  on  the  conclusion  of  the  performance,  to  compliment  her 
and  assure  her  of  the  great  pleasure  she  had  afforded  the  King.  "  Ah  well  !  " 
she  replied,  "  tell  his  Majesty  that,  if  he  is  satisfied  with  Iphise,  he  should 
restore  to  her  Dardanus  !  " 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  43 

soon  afterwards,  she  sought  and  obtained  a  judicial 
separation. 

His  few  months'  imprisonment  at  Metz  would  appear 
to  have  exercised  a  chastening  eflFect  upon  the  volatile 
count,  as,  for  the  next  three  or  four  years,  though  quarrels 
were  still  of  frequent  occurrence,  there  was  no  open 
rupture  between  the  lovers.  During  this  period,  two 
more  children  were  born  to  them  :  a  son,  Antoine 
Constant,  who  subsequently  entered  the  army,  rose  to 
be  colonel  of  a  regiment  of  cuirassiers,  and  was  killed 
at  the  battle  of  Wagram  ;  and  a  daughter,  Alexandrine 
Sophie,  of  whom  we  shall  have  something  to  say  later  on. 

Perhaps  the  comparative  harmony  which  now  reigned 
between  this  singular  pair  was  the  result  of  a  tacit  under- 
standing that  they  should  forgive  and  forget.  At  any 
rate,  they  were  very  far  from  being  all  in  all  to  one 
another  during  these  years.  Some  doubt  seems  to  have 
existed  as  to  whether  Alexandrine  Sophie,  born  March  7, 
1767,  had  not  the  right  to  claim  an  even  more  illustrious 
descent  than  that  of  the  Brancas  ;  for,  though  M.  de 
Lauraguais  recognised  the  child  as  his,  the  assiduous 
attentions  paid  by  the  Prince  de  Conti  to  her  mother 
rendered  it  quite  possible  that  she  had  royal  blood  in 
her  veins.  On  his  side,  the  count  indulged  in  several 
"  passades,''^  one  of  which,  with  a  certain  Mile.  Robbi, 
a  colleague  of  Sophie,  threatened  to  develop  into  a  more 
permanent  connection.  Finally,  in  the  spring  of  1768, 
the  union  was  again  dissolved,  Lauraguais  being,  on  this 
occasion,  the  one  to  sever  the  knot. 

On  February  26  of  that  year,  a  young  German 
danseuse.  Mile.  Heinel  by  name,  who  had  already  achieved 
a  reputation  in  Vienna,  made  her  appearance  at  the  Opera> 
and   created   a   great   sensation.     "  Mile.    Heinel,"    says 


44    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Grimm,  "  afflicted  with  seventeen  or  eighteen  years, 
two  large,  expressive  eyes,  and  two  well-shaped  legs, 
which  support  a  very  pretty  face  and  figure,  has  arrived 
from  Vienna  and  made  her  debut  at  the  Opera  in  the 
danse  noble.  She  displays  a  precision,  a  sureness,  an 
aplomb,  and  a  dignity  of  bearing  comparable  to  the  great 
Vestris.  The  connoisseurs  of  dancing  pretend  that,  in 
two  or  three  years.  Mile.  Heinel  will  be  the  first  danseuse 
in  Europe,  and  the  connoisseurs  of  charms  are  disputing 
the  glory  of  ruining  themselves  for  her."  ^ 

In  a  letter  written  some  months  later,  Grimm  becomes 
quite  ecstatic  over  the  beauty  and  talent  of  his  young 
compatriot  : 

"  Her  grace  and  dignity  make  of  her  a  celestial 
creature.  To  see  her,  I  do  not  say  dance,  but  merely 
walk  across  the  stage,  is  alone  worth  the  money  that  one 
pays  at  the  door  of  the  Opera."  ^ 

The   charms    of   this    "  celestial   creature "    proved 

*  Correspondance  litter  aire,  v.  431. 

*  Correspondance  litteraire,  vi.  145.  Mile.  Heinel  seems  also  to  have 
made  a  very  favourable  impression  upon  Horace  Walpole,  who  mentions 
her  several  times  in  his  letters,  and  always  in  terms  of  admiration.  After 
seeing  her  for  the  first  time,  on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  Paris,  in  1771, 
he  writes  to  the  Earl  of  Strafford :  "  There  is  a  finer  dancer  [than  Mile. 
Guimard],  whom  M.  Hobart  is  to  transplant  to  London  ;  a  Mademoiselle 
Heinel,  or  Ingle,  a  Fleming.  She  is  tall,  perfectly  made,  very  handsome, 
and  has  a  set  of  attitudes  copied  from  the  classics.  She  moves  as  gracefully 
slow  as  Pygmalion's  statue  when  it  was  coming  to  life,  and  moves  her  leg 
round  as  imperceptibly  as  if  she  was  dancing  in  the  Zodiac.  But  she  is  not 
Virgo."  The  lady  came  to  London  that  same  winter,  and  danced  for  some 
months  at  Covent  Garden,  where  she  created  as  much  enthusiasm  as  in 
Paris.  On  April  21,  1772,  Walpole  writes  again  :  "  I  am  just  going  to  the 
Opera  to  hear  Milice  sing.  I  do  not  believe  he  will  draw  such  audiences 
as  Mile.  Heinel  has  done.  The  town  has  an  idle  notion  that  she  made 
so  much  impression  upon  a  very  high  heart,  that  it  is  thought  prudent  to 
keep  it  out  of  her  way.     She  is  the  most  graceful  figure  in  the  world,  with 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  45 

more  than  the  susceptible  heart  of  M.  de  Lauraguais 
could  withstand,  and  we  read  in  the  Memoires  secrets, 
under  date  March  28,  1768  : 

"  Her  (Mile.  Heinel's)  attractions  have  so  captivated 
M.  le  Comte  de  Lauraguais  as  to  cause  him  to  forget 
those  of  Mile.  Arnoux  {sic).  He  has  given  her,  as  a 
wedding-present  ^  /  ^ Allemand,  30,000  livres,  20,000  livres 
to  a  brother,  to  whom  she  is  much  attached,  an  exquisite 
set  of  furniture,  a  coach,  and  so  forth.  It  is  computed 
that  the  -premiere  cost  this  magnificent  nobleman  100,000 
livres." 

Sophie  appears  to  have  been  anything  but  heart- 
broken at  the  desertion  of  her  eccentric  lover — probably 
she  was  as  anxious  to  be  rid  of  him,  for  a  season,  as  he 
was  to  leave  her — and,  less  than  a  year  later,  we  find  her 
corresponding  with  him  in  the  friendliest  manner.  By 
that  time  the  count  had  had  more  than  enough  of  the 
society  of  Mile.  Heinel,  concerning  whom  Sophie  has 
many  spiteful  things  to  say.  She  herself,  she  informs 
him — perhaps  with  a  view  of  exciting  his  jealousy — 
is  receiving  great  attention  from  the  Prince  de  Conti, 
who  often  invites  her,  together  with  other  past,  present, 
and  potential  members  of  his  seraglio,^  to  his  box  at  the 
Opera,  where  he  invariably  greets  her  with  a  kiss  upon 
the  chin.^ 

charming  eyes,  beautiful  mouth,  and  lovely  countenance  ;  yet  I  do  not  think 
we  shall  see  a  Dame  du  Barri  on  this  side  the  Channel." 

The  staid  Dr.  Barney  was  another  of  Mile.  Heinel's  admirers,  and  informs 
us  that,  besides  the  six  hundred  pounds  salary  she  received  from  the  manage- 
ment of  Co  vent  Garden,  she  was  *'  complimented  with  a  regallo  of  six  hundred 
more  from  the  Macaroni  Club." 

^  This  prince  is  said  to  have  had  sixty  acknowledged  mistresses,  besides 
occasional  and  *'  imperceptible  "  ones. 

^  In  her  Memoires,  Sophie  writes :   "  The  prince  had,  for  a  moment,  the 


46    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Sophie's  life  at  this  period  affords  us  very  little  that 
is  edifying  to  contemplate,  and  much  that  is  the  reverse. 
Her  apartment  in  the  Rue  du  Dauphin  was  the  rendez- 
vous of  many  wits  and  men  of  letters  :  Marmontel, 
Crebillon  fils,  Dorat,  Voisenon,  and  the  Abbe  Arnaud  ; 
but  it  was  also  frequented  by  nearly  all  the  fashionable 
libertines  of  the  day,  and  "  her  table  was  an  altar  of  free 
life  and  free  love."  "  Foreign  Ambassadors  covered  her 
with  diamonds.  Serene  Highnesses  threw  themselves  at 
her  feet,  dukes  and  peers  sent  her  carriages,  and  Princes 
of  the  Blood  deigned  to  have  children  by  her."  ^  Unlike 
the  majority  of  her  colleagues,  who  clung  tenaciously 
to  the  few  poor  shreds  of  reputation  that  were  left  them, 
Sophie  appears  to  have  been  perfectly  indifferent  to 
public  opinion,  and  jested  cynically  with  comparative 
strangers  on  the  depraved  life  she  was  leading. 

In  the  spring  of  1770,  we  find  her  accepting  a  new 
amant  en  titre^  in  the  person  of  Charles  Alexander  Marc 
Marcellin  d' Alsace,  Prince  d'Henin  et  du  Saint-Empire. 
The  Prince  d'Henin  was  a  dull,  pompous  man,  nick- 
named, by  a  play  on  his  title,  "  le  frince  des  fiains,^^ 
who  seems  to  have  taken  the  actress  under  his  protection 
merely  because  it  was  the  mode  in  those  days  to  keep  a 
mistress,  and  the  more  notorious  the  lady,  the  greater 
the  distinction  she  conferred  upon  her  lover.  His  chief 
recommendations,  so  far  as  Sophie  was  concerned,  were 
that  he  was  very  rich  and  disposed  to  allow  her  to  do 

idea  of  devoting  himself  to  me.  But  he  wished  me  to  be  entirely  his  own, 
without  any  distraction  or  reserve.  I  never  had  any  taste  for  exaggerated 
grandeurs,  and  am  of  the  opinion  of  that  philosopher  who  said  that  happiness 
is  only  to  be  found  in  moderation." 

^  E.  and  J.  de  Goncourt,  Sophie  Arnould,  p.  70.  According  to  the 
Chronique  scandaleuse,  Sophie  had  a  daughter  by  the  Prince  de  Conde,  who 
afterwards  married  the  Comte  dc  R  *  *  *. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  47 

pretty  much  as  she  pleased,  so  long  as  the  admirers 
whom  he  chanced  to  encounter  on  his  visits  to  her  house 
behaved  towards  him  with  the  deference  which  he  con- 
sidered due  to  his  exalted  rank. 

Her  apartment  in  the  Rue  du  Dauphin  not  being 
large  enough  to  accommodate  all  the  distinguished 
persons  who  desired  to  pay  homage  to  her,  Sophie, 
about  this  time,  removed  to  a  more  commodious  one  in 
the  Rue  des  Petits-Champs.  This,  in  its  turn,  becoming 
too  small  for  her  requirements,  she  made  up  her  mind 
to  have  an  hotel  built,  and  selected  a  site  in  the  Chaussee- 
d'Antin,  immediately  adjoining  the  hotel  of  Mile. 
Guimard — the  *'  Temple  of  Terpsichore,"  as  it  was 
called — the  erection  of  which  had  half-ruined  more  than 
one  of  the  adorers  of  "  la  squelette  des  Graces.''^ 

In  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale  may  be  seen  a  drawing 
of  the  facade  of  the  proposed  house,  and  plans  of  the 
rez-de-chaussee  and  the  first  and  second  floors.  The 
drawing  of  the  facade  bears  the  following  inscription  : 

"  Facade  of  a  projected  house  for  Mile.  Arnould  in 
the  Chaussee-d'z\ntin.  The  house  to  be  constructed 
side  by  side  with  that  of  Mile.  Guimard,  and  to  be  of 
the  same  dimensions. — Belanger." 

On  the  portico,  which  is  supported  by  two  Doric 
columns,  may  be  seen  the  figure  of  the  Muse  Euterpe, 
with  the  features  of  Sophie  Arnould.  The  plan  of  the 
second  floor  is  inscribed  :  "  Plan  of  the  second  floor  of 
Mile.  Arnould's  projected  house,  in  which  there  are  to 
be    four    small    rooms    for    the    accommodation    of    the 


children. 


j> 


This  palace  never  got  beyond  the  paper  stage,  for 
Sophie  fell  in  love  with  the  architect  and  the  architect 
with  her,  in  consequence  of  which,  we  may  presume, 


48    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  Prince  d'Henin,  or  whatever  wealthy  admirer  was 
to  have  defrayed  the  expenses,  declined  to  have  anything 
further  to  do  with  the  scheme. 

Francois  Joseph  Belanger,  the  architect  in  question, 
was  a  charming  man.  He  was  then  about  thirty  years 
of  age,  handsome,  good-tempered,  witty,  and  one  of 
the  most  rising  members  of  his  profession.^  Sophie 
loved  him  dearly — for  a  time  at  least — though  this  did 
not  prevent  her  indulging  in  various  passing  fancies. 
Once,  when  he  was  temporarily  out  of  favour,  she  sent 
him  his  conge,  and,  at  the  same  time,  wrote  to  an  actor 
named  Florence,  inviting  him  to  take  the  vacant  place 
in  her  affections.  Belanger,  however,  happening  to  call 
at  her  house  at  a  time  when  she  was  not  at  home,  found 
the  two  letters  on  her  desk,  read  them,  and  promptly 
changed  the  envelopes.  The  result  was  that  Florence 
received  the  conge,  instead  of  the  avowal  of  love,  and 
naturally  became  very  cold  in  his  manner  towards  Sophie, 
who,  deeply  mortified,  turned  for  consolation  to  her 
faithful  architect. 

At  one  time  a  rumour  was  current  that  Sophie  was 
about  to  become  Madame  Belanger,  and,  when  questioned 
on  the  matter,  the  lady  replied :  "  What  would  you  have  ? 
So  many  people  are  endeavouring  to  destroy  my  reputation 
that  I  need  some  one  who  can  restore  it.  I  could  not 
make  a  better  choice,  since  I  have  selected  an  architect !  " 
The  marriage,  however,  did  not  take  place,  though  that 
would  not  appear  to  have  been  the  fault  of  Belanger. 

^  He  was  the  architect  of  Bagatelle,  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  which  he 
built  for  the  Comte  d'Artois,  and  designed  the  gardens  of  the  Chateau 
de  Mereville  (Seine-et-Oise)  and  of  Beloeil,  in  Belgium,  the  seat  of  the  Prince 
de  Ligne.  Extant  specimens  of  his  work  are  the  hotel  built  for  Mile.  Contat, 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Berri,  in  the  Champs-Elysees,  and  the  dome  of 
the  old  Halle  aux  Bles,  now  the  Bourse  du  Commerce. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  49 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  a  lady  with  so  romantic 
a  past,  and  three  fine  children  to  prevent  people  forgetting 
it,  was  hardly  the  kind  of  wife  for  a  rising  professional 
man,  the  architect  would  have  been  only  too  willing 
to  regularise  their  connection.  But  Sophie  had  no  mind 
to  marry  any  one  who  was  unable  to  satisfy  all  her  caprices ; 
and  it  is  probable  that  the  rumour  referred  to  was  started 
and  circulated  by  her  with  the  object  of  giving  the  lie 
to  another,  which  was  occasioning  her  intense  annoyance.^ 

Sophie's  insolence  and  pride  in  this  the  heyday 
of  her  prosperity  knew  no  bounds.  She  insulted  the 
Lieutenant  of  Police  and  was,  in  consequence,  placed 
under  arrest  for  twenty-four  hours ;  she  made  biting 
epigrams  about  Ministers  and  other  distinguished 
persons,  which,  no  doubt,  duly  reached  her  victims' 
ears  ;  she  behaved  with  such  "  unexampled  audacity  " 
and  *'  essential  want  of  respect  "  towards  Madame  du 
Barry,  on  the  occasion  of  a  performance  before  the  Court, 
at  Fontainebleau,  that,  but  for  the  intervention  of  the 
injured  lady — the  most  sweet-tempered  left-hand  queen 
who  ever  degraded  a  throne — she  would  have  spent  the 
next  six  months  as  a  prisoner  in  the  Hopital,^  and  she 
drove  the  unfortunate  directors  of  the  Opera  to  the  verge 
of  distraction  with  her  whims  and  caprices. 

The  race  of  prime  donne  is  proverbially  a  capricious 

^  One  which  accused  her  of  practising  the  shameful  vices  of  antiquity. 
See  E.  and  J.  de  Goncourt's  Sophie  Arnould,  p.  86  et  seq. 

'  Madame  du  Barry  was,  however,  amply  avenged.  Sophie's  comrades 
of  the  theatre,  scarcely  one  of  whom  but  had  suffered  from  her  sarcastic 
tongue,  were  not  slow  to  avail  themselves  of  so  excellent  an  opportunity  of 
paying  their  tormentor  back  in  her  own  coin,  andj  for  some  time  afterwards, 
never  failed  to  let  fall  the  odious  word  "  Hopital"  whenever  Mile.  Arnould 
happened  to  be  within  earshot ;  a  proceeding  which,  Bachaumont  tells  us, 
'*  no  doubt  greatly  humiliated  that  superb  queen  of  opera." 

D 


50    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

one  ;  the  profession  of  an  impresario  one  of  the  most 
trying  which  can  fall  to  the  lot  of  man.  Yet,  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  any  queen  of  song  since  opera  was 
invented  can  have  occasioned  her  managers  anything 
approaching  the  anxiety  and  annoyance  caused  by  Mile. 
Sophie  Arnould.  She  knew  she  was  necessary,  well-nigh 
indispensable,  and  she  abused  her  position.  Dearly 
did  the  administration  pay  for  the  increased  receipts 
which  her  popularity  brought  them.  Every  day  she 
had  some  new  grievance,  some  unexpected  whim.  She 
wished  to  sing  and  she  did  not  wish  to  sing,  she  retired 
and  she  reappeared.  Sometimes  she  would  create  a 
part  in  an  opera,  sing  divinely  to  crowded  houses  for 
three  or  four  nights,  then  suddenly  discover  that  it  was 
unsuited  to  her  or  made  too  great  demands  upon  her 
strength,  and  insist  upon  another  singer  taking  her 
place  for  the  remainder  of  the  run  of  the  piece.  A  few 
evenings  later,  jealous  perhaps  of  the  applause  which 
her  successor  was  receiving,  she  would  come  down  to  the 
theatre  and  announce  her  intention  of  resuming  her 
part,  only  to  throw  it  up  again  so  soon  as  she  considered 
that  she  had  asserted  her  superiority. 

To  revive  an  opera  in  which  she  had  scored  a  success 
was  often  as  risky  a  venture  as  to  produce  a  new  one, 
since  it  might,  and  very  often  did,  happen,  that  Mile. 
Arnould — who,  it  should  be  mentioned,  unlike  the 
majority  of  public  performers,  cared  very  little  for 
applause — would  be  indisposed,  that  is  to  say,  indisposed 
to  exert  her  full  powers,  with  the  result  that  the  once 
popular  piece  would  be  received  in  comparative  silence. 
In  February  1769,  Dardanus  was  revived.  Iphise,  the 
heroine,  was  one  of  Sophie's  greatest  roles,  but  on  the 
first   night   she   either    could    not   or    would   not   sing. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  51 

and  the  opera  became,  in  consequence,  "  almost  a 
burlesque." 

It  is  only,  however,  fair  to  say  that  she  made  ample 
atonement  on  the  following  evening.  Thinking  perhaps, 
as  one  of  her  biographers  suggests,  that  any  one  was 
good  enough  to  sing  with  a  voiceless  prima  donna,  the 
management  entrusted  the  part  of  Dardanus  to  a  new 
tenor  named  Muguet,  "  who  had  neither  voice,  figure, 
nor  expression."  The  audience  not  unnaturally  re- 
sented the  experiment,  and  M.  Muguet  and  the  opera 
with  him  were  in  a  fair  way  to  be  hissed  off  the  stage, 
when  Sophie  came  to  the  rescue  and,  by  superb  singing 
and  impassioned  acting,  restored  the  house  to  good 
humour  and  converted  a  complete  failure  into  something 
approaching  a  success. 

Seeing  that  the  ladies  of  the  Opera  were  the  King's 
servants  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  phrase,  and  that  mis- 
behaviour on  their  part  was  wont  to  be  construed  as 
disobedience  to  his  Majesty's  commands  and  punished 
accordingly,  why,  it  may  well  be  asked,  was  such  conduct 
tolerated  ?  Why  did  not  the  chief  of  the  King's  House- 
hold intervene  with  one  of  those  lettres  de  cachet  which 
were  generally  so  efficacious  in  bringing  contumacious 
artistes  to  their  senses  ?  The  answer  is  that  Sophie  had 
so  many  noble  admirers  always  ready  to  espouse  her 
cause  that  to  punish  her  as  she  deserved  could  not  have 
failed  to  create  a  great  deal  of  unpleasantness  ;  for  which 
reason,  though  the  directors  appealed  again  and  again 
to  the  Comte  de  Saint-Florentin  to  exercise  his  authority, 
their  representations  were  without  effect.  Here  is  an 
instance  : 

On  March  24,  1772,  Sophie,  who  was  announced  to 
take  the  part  of  Th61aiire,inRameau'sC^i/of  ^^Po//«x,  had 


52  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

not  arrived  when  the  time  came  for  the  opera  to  begin, 
and  her  place  was,  therefore,  taken  by  her  understudy, 
Mile.  Beaumesnil.  As  no  intimation  of  her  inability 
to  appear  that  evening  had  reached  them,  the  directors 
naturally  concluded  that  she  had  been  suddenly  taken 
ill,  and  their  astonishment  and  indignation  may  be 
imagined  when  they  presently  espied  the  lady  in  a  box, 
laughing  and  talking  with  several  of  her  admirers,  and, 
seemingly,  in  the  best  of  health  and  spirits.  A  message 
demanding  an  explanation  of  what  she  meant  by  appear- 
ing in  the  front  of  the  house  when  she  was  "  billed  " 
to  play  a  part  produced  the  impertinent  reply  that  she 
had  come  to  take  a  lesson  from  Mile.  Beaumesnil  !  The 
angry  directors  thereupon  appealed  to  the  chief  of  the 
King's  Household  and  begged  him  to  send  the  recalci- 
trant actress  to  For  I'Ev^que.  But  the  Prince  d'Henin, 
or  some  other  influential  adorer,  interceded  on  her 
behalf,  and  the  only  punishment  she  received  was  "  a 
severe  reprimand." 

Such  misplaced  leniency,  Bachaumont  tells  us,  was 
highly  displeasing  to  a  certain  section  of  the  Opera's 
patrons,  and  when,  an  evening  or  two  later.  Mademoiselle 
did  condescend  to  appear,  a  number  of  people  came  to 
the  theatre  "  with  the  intention  of  humiliating  her  by 
hissing."  Sophie,  however,  perhaps  desirous  of  making 
atonement  to  the  public  for  its  previous  disappointment, 
put  forth  all  her  powers  and  sang  and  acted  so  admirably 
that  the  malcontents'  courage  failed  them,  and,  finally, 
forgetting  the  object  which  had  brought  them  thither, 
they  joined  heartily  in  the  general  applause.  ^ 

Owing  to  the  cares  of  maternity  and  other  causes, 
chief  of  which  would  seem  to  have  been  a  pronounced 

*  Metnoires  secrets,  vi.  136. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  53 

antipathy  to  hard  work,  Sophie's  appearances  at  the 
Opera  were  very  irregular,  and  sometimes  her  name  did 
not  find  a  place  in  the  bills  for  several  months  together. 
Thus,  she  was  absent  from  October  1761  to  the  following 
February;  again  from  November  1766  to  August  1767  ; 
while  in  1770  she  does  not  appear  to  have  sung  at  all. 
A  less  popular  actress,  or  one  whose  life  outside  the 
theatre  was  less  notorious,  might  have  incurred  some 
risk  of  finding  herself  forgotten.  But  Sophie's  admirers 
were  numerous  and  faithful,  and  when  she  had  a  part 
which  suited  her,  and  was  in  the  humour  to  do  herself 
justice,  her  singing  and,  more  especially,  her  acting  were 
so  superior  to  her  rivals  that  the  house  was  invariably 
crowded.  Among  her  triumphs  may  be  mentioned  : 
Thisbe,  in  Pyrame  et  Thisbe ;  Oriane,  in  Amadis  de 
Gaule  ;  ^  Aline,  in  Aline,  Reine  de  Golconde^  "  which," 
says  Bachaumont,  "  she  endowed  with  all  the  delicate 
graces  of  sentiment,  beauty,  and  talent  "  ;  Psyche,  in 
V Amour  et  Psyche  ;  Iphise,  in  Dardanus,  and  Thelaire, 
in  Castor  et  Pollux,  when  the  critic  of  the  Mercure 
declared  that  she  was  "  not  a  character  of  the  piece, 

^  Eighteenth-century  composers  appear  to  have  been  continually  tinker- 
ing with  this  unfortunate  opera,  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the  famous 
LuUi-Quinault  series.  When  it  was  revived  in  January  1759,  La  Borde, 
Louis  XV.'s  musical  valet-de-chambre,  made  various  alterations  in  the  music, 
*'  which  disgusted  equally  the  partisans  of  the  old  and  the  new  schools." 
In  November  1771,  Berton,  one  of  the  directors  of  the  Opera,  substituted 
some  very  inferior  melodies  of  his  own,  which,  if  possible,  were  even  less 
to  the  taste  of  the  audience,  and,  eight  years  later,  Johann  Christian  Bach, 
the  eleventh  son  of  the  celebrated  master,  tried  his  hand  at  the  score,  like- 
wise without  success. 

^  This  was  one  of  the  most  successful  of  Sophie's  "  creations."  The 
piece,  the  libretto  of  which  had  been  adapted  by  Sedaine  from  a  conte  of 
the  Chevalier  de  BoufBers,  published  in  1761,  was  played  twenty-six  times 
in  succession,  an  unusually  long  run  in  those  days. 


54   LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

but  Thelaire  herself,  and  that  the  feelings  she  depicted 
passed  involuntarily  into  the  souls  of  the  spectators."  ^ 

Although  Belanger  was  Mile.  Arnould's  amant  de 
coeur,  the  Prince  d'Henin  remained  her  titular  protector. 
The  prince  was  an  exceedingly  dull  and  fatuous  person, 
with  the  most  absurdly  exaggerated  idea  of  his  own 
importance,  and  bored  the  lady  insufferably,  although 
financial  considerations  compelled  her  to  tolerate  him. 
At  the  same  time,  she  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal  from 
her  friends  the  ennui  which  his  visits  occasioned  her,  and 
when,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1774,  the  Comte 
de  Lauraguais,  with  whom  she  still  maintained  friendly 
relations,  returned  from  a  lengthy  visit  to  England,  she 
hastened  to  pour  her  troubles  into  his  sympathetic  ear. 
Perhaps  Lauraguais  would  have  been  not  unwilling  to 
resume  his  connection  with  Sophie,  had  there  been  no 
Prince  d'Henin  in  the  way,  and  cherished  a  grudge 
against  that  nobleman  for  taking  the  place  which  had  so 
long  been  his  own.  Perhaps  he  had  some  other  grievance 
against  him,  for  the  prince  was  by  no  means  universally 
beloved.  Any  way,  he  determined  to  have  a  little 
diversion  at  his  expense.     We  read  in  the  Memoires  secrets  : 

"  February   19,    1774. — The   Comte   de   Lauraguais, 

*  The  Mercure  is  lavish  in  its  praise  of  Sophie's  rendering  of  Colin,  the 
boy's  part,  in  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau's  Devin  du  Village,  in  which  she  ap- 
peared in  December  1767.  But  Mr.  Douglas  thinks  that  her  performance 
was  less  successful  than  that  rather  partial  organ  declared  it  to  be.  At  all 
events,  he  says,  she  did  not  repeat  the  experiment,  and  was  always  extremely 
sarcastic  if  any  of  her  fellow  actresses  undertook  masculine  parts.  Mile. 
Allard,  whose  innumerable  galanteries  had  astonished,  and  almost  shocked, 
even  the  nymphs  of  the  Opera,  one  day  happened  to  remark,  after  playing 
such  a  part,  that  she  believed  that  half  the  audience  really  thought  she  was 
a  boy.  "  But  the  other  half  knew  you  were  not,  ma  chere^''  observed  Sophie. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  55 

that  amiable  nobleman,  whose  inextinguishable  gaiety- 
is  so  marvellously  seconded  by  his  lively  imagination, 
after  having  amused  London,  has  come  to  enliven  this 
capital  with  his  sallies  and  ingenious  pleasantries,  of 
which  one  relates  a  charming  instance  :  Some  days  ago, 
he  summoned  four  doctors  of  the  Faculty  of  Medicine 
to  a  consultation,  in  order  to  know  whether  it  were 
possible  for  any  one  to  die  of  ennui.  They  replied  in  the 
affirmative  and,  after  a  long  preamble,  setting  forth  thf 
reasons  for  their  decision,  signed  a  paper  to  that  effect, 
in  all  good  faith.  The  family  of  Brancas  is  so  generally 
composed  of  lunatics,  hypochondriacs,  hysterical  and 
melancholy  persons,  and  so  forth,  that  they  imagined  that 
the  question  put  to  them  concerned  some  relative  of  the 
consultant,  and  agreed  that  the  only  means  of  effecting  a 
cure  was  to  remove  out  of  the  patient's  sight  the  object 
which  occasioned  this  condition  of  inertia  and  stagnation. 

"  Armed  with  this  document  duly  signed  and  wit- 
nessed, the  facetious  nobleman  proceeded  to  lay  it  before 
a  Commissary  of  Police  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  lodge 
a  complaint  against  the  Prince  d'Henin,  who,  by  his 
continual  obsession  of  Mile.  Arnoux  {sic),  would  infallibly 
cause  that  actress  to  perish  of  ennui,  and  the  public  to 
lose  one  whom  it  valued  highly,  and  whom  he  especially- 
desired  to  preserve." 

Needless  to  say,  the  commissary  did  not  issue  the 
warrant  demanded ;  but,  equally  needless  to  say,  he 
related  the  jest  to  every  one  he  happened  to  meet  that 
morning,  with  the  result  that,  in  a  very  few  hours,  this 
"  charming  instance  of  the  inextinguishable  humour  of 
the  Comte  de  Lauraguais  "  was  the  talk  of  Paris,  and  was 
voted  the  best  comedy  that  had  been  played  for  many 
a    long   day.     The   Prince    d'Henin    naturally   did    not 


56  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

look  at  the  matter  in  quite  the  same  light,  and  talked 
about  sending  the  count  a  challenge.  According  to  one 
account,  he  actually  did  so,  and  a  bloodless  duel  followed. 
But  since,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  he  was  a  nobleman 
by  no  means  remarkable  for  his  courage,  it  is  more  prob- 
able that  he  ultimately  decided  to  pocket  the  affront. 

In  the  course  of  that  same  month,  Sophie  Arnould 
determined  to  withdraw  altogether  from  the  Opera 
and,  accordingly,  sent  in  her  resignation,  giving  as  her 
reason  the  unsatisfactory  state  of  her  health.  The  Due 
de  la  Vrilliere,  however,  declined  to  accept  it,  at  the  same 
time  assuring  her,  in  a  courteous  letter,  that,  "  under  no 
circumstances  would  more  be  required  of  her  than  her 
strength  would  permit  of  her  undertaking."  Although 
it  would  appear  that  Sophie  was  really  somewhat  out 
of  health  at  that  time — so  that  Lauraguais's  charge 
against  the  poor  Prince  d'Henin  was  not  without  a  basis 
of  truth — her  resolution  to  quit  the  scene  of  her  many 
triumphs  was  dictated  by  a  very  different  reason.  The 
fact  of  the  matter  was  that  the  Sophie  Arnould  of  1774 
was  not  the  Sophie  Arnould  of  1758 — not  the  singer  who 
had  charmed  all  Paris  in  Les  Amours  des  Dieux  and  Enee 
et  Lavinie.  Her  voice,  always  more  expressive  than 
powerful,  was  becoming  perceptibly  weaker.  Her  beauty, 
though  she  was  still  very  attractive,  had  lost  its  freshness. 
Her  frequent  absences,  her  endless  caprices,  her  arrogance 
and  insolence,  so  long  tolerated,  had  begun  to  weary  not 
only  the  long-suffering  directors  of  the  Opera,  but  the 
public  and  the  critics  who  influenced  it.  Where  there 
had  been  applause,  there  was  now  silence.  Where  there 
had  been  praise,  there  was  now  criticism,  and  criticism 
sometimes  of  a  peculiarly  galling  kind.  In  a  word, 
Sophie's  long  reign  was  drawing  to  a  close.    And  Paris 


GLUCK 

After  the  painting  by  N.  F.  Duplessis 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  57 

was  eagerly  awaiting  the  arrival  of  a  new  composer. 
Gluck,  who  was  to  revolutionise  opera  in  France,  was 
coming,  at  the  invitation  of  Marie  Antoinette,  to  give  a 
series  of  "  musical  dramas  " — as  he  himself  called  them — 
reconstructed  from  those  which  had  delighted  Vienna 
and  Italy.  Supported  as  he  would  be  by  the  young 
Dauphiness  and  the  Court,  his  success  was  a  foregone 
conclusion.  What  unthinkable  humiliation  for  her  if, 
when  the  principal  parts  came  to  be  allotted,  she  should 
be  passed  over  in  favour  of  one  of  her  youthful  com- 
petitors :  Mile.  Laguerre  or,  worse  still,  Rosalie  Levas- 
seur,  the  mistress  of  Mercy-Argenteau,  the  Austrian 
Ambassador,  between  whom  and  herself  the  bitterest 
rivalry  existed  !  Rather  than  incur  such  a  risk,  she  would 
retire  of  her  own  accord,  while  her  laurels  were  still 
untarnished,  while  her  sovereignty  was  still  acknowledged. 

But,  as  we  have  just  seen,  her  resignation  was  not 
accepted,  and  when  Gluck  arrived  in  Paris,  he  appears 
to  have  had  little  difficulty  in  deciding  to  entrust  the  title- 
part  in  his  I-phigenie  en  Aulide  to  her,  though  his  choice 
was  probably  influenced  more  by  Sophie's  histrionic  than 
her  vocal  capabilities,  for  while  her  voice  was  neither  so 
powerful  nor  so  fresh  as  those  of  the  two  ladies  mentioned 
above,  her  acting  was  immeasurably  superior  to  theirs. 

We  are  inclined  to  think,  however,  that  even  if  Sophie 
had  been  much  less  fitted  than  she  was  to  undertake  the 
difficult  role  of  Iphigenie,  Gluck  would  still  have  hesi- 
tated before  passing  her  over,  since  to  have  done  so 
would  have  been  certain  to  arouse  a  storm  of  hostile 
criticism,  a  singularly  inauspicious  opening  to  his  Paris 
campaign.  As  matters  stood,  his  position  was,  at  first, 
far  from  an  easy  one.  The  musical  world  of  Paris  was 
the  most  critical  and  contentious  of  any  capital  in  Europe, 


y 


58    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

and  the  advent  of  a  foreign  operatic  troupe  or  a  new 
composer  was  invariably  the  sign  for  the  amateurs  of 
music  to  range  themselves  into  hostile  camps  and  to 
discuss  the  merits  and  demerits  of  the  innovation  with 
as  much  warmth  as,  in  the  present  day,  rival  schools  of 
politicians  might  debate  a  question  of  international 
importance.  Just  as  in  1752,  when  an  Italian  troupe 
came  to  perform  the  Serva  Padrona  of  Pergolese  and  other 
works  of  the  Italian  buffo  order,  all  musical  Paris  was 
divided  into  Buffonists  and  anti-Buffonists ;  so  now, 
immediately  on  Gluck's  arrival,  two  parties  were  formed, 
one  prepared  to  laud  to  the  skies  everything  the  master 
might  compose,  the  other  resolved  to  uphold  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  old  French  opera  at  all  costs  and  to  drive 
the  daring  reformer  from  the  field.  ^ 

Gluck  found  the  task  of  producing  I-phigenie  the  most 
difficult  of  any  which  he  had  yet  undertaken.  What 
he  saw  and  heard  at  the  Palais-Royal  disgusted  as  much 
as  it  astonished  him  ;  orchestra,  singers,  chorus,  ballet — 
all  were  lamentably  inefficient,  and  it  was  obvious  that 
a  course  of  the  most  rigorous  training  would  be  required 
ere  they  would  be  competent  to  do  his  work  anything  like 
justice.  The  state  of  the  Paris  Opera  at  this  time  was 
indeed  almost  incredible.  "  Disorder,  abuse,  caprice, 
routine,  inertia,"  says Desnoiresterres,  "were  despotically 
enthroned  there,  without  a  protest  from  any  one.  If 
reform  were  urgent,  so  many  persons  were  interested  in 
the  statu  quo  that  there  was  scarcely  any  hope  of  obtaining 
from  the  administration,  from  this  ignorant  and  preju- 
diced crowd,  any  improvement  that  was  at  all  practical. 
In  the  midst  of  all  the  pomp  and  expenditure  was  a 
carelessness,  an  anarchy,  a  disorder  past  all  belief.  Actors 
'  Mr.  Ernest  Newman,  "  Gluck  and  the  Opera,"  p.  133. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  59 

and  actresses  pushed  indecency  to  such  a   point   as   to 
appear  outside  the  coulisses,  the  latter  in  white  camisoles 
with  a  culotte  d^argent  and  a  band  across  the  forehead  ; 
the  former  in  a  simple  peignoir.     It  was  not  an  infre- 
quent   sight,    while    the    foreground    was    occupied    by- 
Jupiter  or  Theseus,  to  see,  through  the  scenes,  the  dancers 
moving  and  fluttering  about,  they  having  actually  chosen 
the  background  of  the  stage  to  practise  their  steps  and 
make   their  jetes-battus.''''  *     The   choruses   drew   them- 
selves up  in  a  semi-circle,  impassive,  without  a  gesture, 
like  grenadiers  on  guard,  and  evinced  not  the  slightest 
interest  either  in  the   words  they  had  to  sing  or  in  the 
action   of   the    principal   performers.     The   latter   went 
to    the    opposite    extreme.     "  One    sees    the    actresses, 
almost  in  convulsions,  violently  tear  the  yelps  out  of  their 
lungs,  their  fists  clenched  against  their  chest,  the  head 
thrown  back,  the  face  inflamed,  the  veins  swollen,  the 
stomach  heaving  ;   one  does  not  know  which  is  the  more 
disagreeably  affected,  the  eye  or  the  ear  ;   their  exertion 
gives  as  much  pain  to  those  who  see  them  as  their  singing 
does  to  those  who  hear  them."^ 

The  orchestra,  which  in  winter  was  in  the  habit  of 
performing  in  gloves,  is  compared  by  Mercier,  the  author  of 
Le  'Tableau  de  Paris,  to  "  an  old  coach  drawn  by  consump- 
tive horses  and  led  by  one  deaf  from  his  birth,"  and  besides 
being  careless  and  indifferent,  was  continually  at  variance 
with  the  singers  on  the  question  whether  the  latter  should 
follow  the  musicians  or  the  musicians  follow  them. 
Gretry  relates  the  following  conversation,  which  took 
place  between  Sophie  Arnould  and  Francceur,  the  con- 
ductor of  the  orchestra,  during  a  rehearsal  of  his  own 
opera  of  Cephale  et  Procris,  in  1773  : 

^  Gluck  et  Ptccini,  p.  89.  *  Rousseau,  La  Nouvelle  Helo'ise. 


6o   LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  What  Is  the  meaning  of  this,  Monsieur  ?  The 
orchestra  seems  in  a  state  of  rebellion  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  rebellion,  Mademoiselle  ? 
We  are  all  here  for  the  service  of  the  King,  and  we  serve 
him  zealously." 

"  I  should  like  to  serve  him  also,  but  your  orchestra 
puts  me  out  and  spoils  my  singing." 

"  Nevertheless,  Mademoiselle,  we  play  in  time." 

"  In  time !  Quelle  bete  est-ce  la  ?  Follow  me, 
Monsieur,  and  understand  that  your  accompaniment 
is  the  very  humble  servant  of  the  actress  who  is  reciting  !  " 

As  the  Goncourts  point  out,  under  the  apparent 
insolence  of  her  claim,  Sophie  was  here  asserting  the 
rights  of  the  dramatic  vocalist  before  the  musical  revolu- 
tion, of  which  Gluck  was  the  pioneer,  when  opera-singers 
were  regarded  merely  as  men  and  women  reciting  musical 
tragedy  with  intonations  indicated  by  a  musician.  Until 
then  they  had  enjoyed  the  most  complete  independence 
as  to  the  manner  of  presenting  their  phrases.  Until 
then  they  had  been  at  liberty  to  hurry  or  slacken  the 
time,  to  pause  on  or  shorten  any  particular  note,  accord- 
ing to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  or  even  as  they 
felt  more  or  less  fatigued,  the  orchestra  following  as  best 
it  could.  "  '  Quelle  bete  est-ce  la  ? '  Sophie  had  but 
little  doubt  when  she  uttered  these  words  that  cette  bete 
was  on  the  eve  of  reducing  her  talent  and  reputation  to 
nothing."  ^ 

The  pretension,  however,  was  one  which  a  composer, 
like  Gluck,  "  who  took  the  trouble  to  note  not  only  the 
inflections  of  the  voice,  but  also  the  long  notes  and  the 
short  ones,  the  accent  and  the  time,"  could  not  for  one 
moment  tolerate  ;   and  his  insistence  on  its  abandonment 

^  E.  and  J.  de  Goncourt,  Sophie  Arnould,  p.  1 19. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  6i 

was  the  cause  of  endless  wrangling  at  rehearsals,  where 
the  principal  vocalists  roundly  declared  that,  if  he  refused 
them  the  liberty  which  had  so  long  been  theirs,  their 
talent  would  become  superfluous  and  they  would  be 
reduced  to  the  level  of  mere  chorus-singers. 

These  disputes  were  chiefly  with  the  lady  members 
of  the  troupe,  though  the  male  singers  did  not  fail  to 
occasion  the  composer  an  infinity  of  trouble.  Legros, 
who  had  been  cast  for  the  part  of  Achilles,  had  an  admir- 
able voice,  but  his  singing  was  totally  lacking  in  expres- 
sion, while  his  movements  on  the  stage  were  stiff  and 
awkward  ;  and  though  Gluck  laboured  unceasingly  to 
remedy  these  faults,  it  was  some  months  ere  he  succeeded. 
Larrivee,  to  whom  had  been  entrusted  the  role  of  Aga- 
memnon, was  even  more  difl&cult  to  deal  with,  being  so 
obstinate  and  self-opinionated  that  to  remonstrate  with 
him  seemed  almost  waste  of  breath.  Once  the  com- 
poser was  forced  to  tell  him  that  he  seemed  to  have  no 
comprehension  of  his  part,  and  to  be  unable  to  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  it.  "  Wait  till  I  put  on  my  costume," 
answered  the  singer  complacently  ;  "  you  won't  recog- 
nise me  then."  At  the  general  rehearsal  Gluck  took 
his  seat  in  a  box.  Larrivee  reappeared,  in  the  costume 
of  Agamemnon,  but  his  interpretation  remained  the 
same.  "  Ah,  my  friend !  "  cried  the  composer,  "  I 
recognise  you  perfectly !  "  ^  Finally,  Gluck  had  to 
contend  with  the  ballet,  and,  in  particular,  with  its  chief, 
the  celebrated  Gaetano  Vestris — "  le  dieu  de  la  danse  " — 
who  once  observed  that  there  were  only  three  great 
men  in  Europe  :  Frederick  II.,  Voltaire,  and  himself  ! 
Vestris  naturally  considered  the  dancing  by  far  the  most 
important  feature  of  an  opera,  and,  although  there  were 

^  Desnoiresterres,  Gluck  et  Piccini,  p.  93. 


62    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

already  several  ballets  in  Iphtgenie,  wanted  yet  another. 
Gluck  angrily  refused. 

"  Quoi  !  "  stammered  Vestris ;  "  moi  !  le  dieu  de 
la  danse  !  " 

"  If  you  are  the  God  of  Dancing,  Monsieur,"  replied 
the  composer,  "  dance  in  heaven,  not  in  my  opera  !  "  ^ 

When,  some  months  later,  Orphee  was  being  rehearsed, 
the  ballet-master  asked  Gluck  to  write  him  the  music 
of  a  chaconne.  The  latter,  who  had  strongly  objected 
to  the  introduction  of  any  dancing  whatever  into  Orphee, 
being  of  opinion  that  it  would  interfere  with  the  serious- 
ness and  pathos  of  the  general  action,  was  horrified. 

"  A  chaconne  !  "  he  cried.  "  Do  you  suppose.  Mon- 
sieur, that  the  Greeks,  whose  manners  I  am  endeavouring 
to  depict,  knew  what  a  chaconne  was  ?  " 

"  Did  they  not  ?  "  rejoined  the  God  of  Dancing. 
"  Then  they  are  much  to  be  pitied  !  " 

In  those  days  it  was  the  custom  to  attend  the  re- 
hearsals of  a  piece  which  happened  to  be  arousing  an 
unusual  amount  of  interest,  and  the  demand  for  admis- 
sion to  those  of  Iphigenie  was  so  great  that  La  Vrilliere 
wrote  to  the  directors  of  the  Opera,  ordering  them  to 
take  special  precautions  to  avoid  any  disturbance  and  to 
allow  no  one  to  enter  without  a  ticket  signed  by  them- 
selves. The  desire  to  be  present  is  not  difficult  to  under- 
stand, since  to  see  Gluck  at  a  rehearsal  must  have  been 
a  sight  not  easily  forgotten.  Throwing  off  his  coat  and 
replacing  his  wig  by  an  old  cotton  night-cap,  he  would 
dart  about  the  stage,  imploring  Mile.  Arnould  to  follow 
his  music,  M.  Larrivee  not  to  sing  through  his  nose, 
M.  Legros  to  endeavour  to  express  something  at  least 
of  the  dignity  and  nobility  which  one  was  accustomed 
*  Mr.  Ernest  Newman,  "  Gluck  and  the  Opera,"  p.  139. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  63 

to  associate  with  the  great  champion  of  the  Greeks,  and 
the  chorus  to  endeavour  to  look  and  move  a  little  less 
like  automata.  "  Look  you,  Mademoiselle  !  "  he  would 
cry,  purple  with  passion,  when  Sophie  or  some  other 
actress  proved  more  than  usually  contumacious,  "  I 
am  here  to  make  you  perform  Ifhigenie.  If  you  are 
willing  to  sing,  nothing  can  be  better.  If  you  are  not 
willing  to  do  so,  do  not  trouble.  I  will  go  and  see 
Madame  la  Dauphine  and  tell  her  what  you  say.  If  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  get  my  opera  produced,  I  shall 
order  my  travelling-carriage  and  take  the  road  to  Vienna." 

This  indeed  was  no  idle  threat,  and  had  it  not  been 
for  the  support  accorded  him  by  Marie  Antoinette, 
there  can  be  very  little  doubt  that  he  would  have  shaken 
the  dust  of  Paris  off  his  feet.  But,  with  the  Dauphiness 
behind  him,  the  malcontents,  grumble  as  they  might, 
had  no  option  but  to  obey  this  terrible  man,  whom  they 
devoutly  wished  at  the  bottom  of  the  Seine. 

The  first  performance  was  fixed  for  April  13,  1774, 
but  almost  at  the  last  moment  Legros  announced  that 
he  was  too  ill  to  appear.  Gluck  immediately  demanded 
the  postponement  of  the  opera.  The  management 
pointed  out  that  the  Royal  Family  were  to  be  present, 
and  that  all  arrangements  had  been  made  for  their  recep- 
tion, and  begged  him  to  allow  another  singer  to  take 
the  place  of  the  absent  tenor.  The  composer  rejoined 
that,  rather  than  see  his  work  mutilated  by  an  inferior 
rendering  of  so  important  a  part,  he  would  throw  it  into 
the  fire  ;   and  the  directors  were  compelled  to  give  way. 

The  opera  was  eventually  produced  on  April  19, 
amidst  the  most  intense  excitement.  From  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning  the  box-offices  were  besieged 
by   an  immense  concourse  of  people,  and  it  was  found 


64    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

necessary  to  double  and  treble  the  ordinary  guard,  to  pre- 
vent disorder.  The  public  interest  was  no  doubt  stimulated 
by  rumours  that  the  Anti-Gluckists  were  planning  a  hostile 
demonstration  ;  and  Marie  Antoinette,  in  great  alarm 
for  the  success  of  her  frotege,  sent  orders  to  the  Lieuten- 
ant of  Police  to  take  measures  to  nip  any  such  attempt 
in  the  bud.  The  Dauphiness  herself,  accompanied  by 
her  obedient  husband,  the  Comte  and  Comtesse  de 
Provence,  the  Duchesses  de  Chartres  and  de  Bourbon, 
and  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe,  entered  the  theatre 
before  the  public  was  admitted,  and  was  followed  by 
most  of  the  Ministers  and  practically  the  whole  Court ; 
indeed,  but  for  the  absence  of  Louis  XV. — who  scarcely 
ever  visited  Paris  during  the  later  years  of  his  reign — and 
Madame  du  Barry,  the  spectators  might  have  imagined 
themselves  at  Versailles  or  Fontainebleau. 

The  opera  was  very  cordially  received,^  though, 
according  to  Grimm,  parts  pleased  more  than  the  en- 
semble. Both  he  and  the  Memoires  secrets  are  very 
severe  upon  the  ballets,  "  the  airs  of  which  had  been 
absolutely  neglected  "  ;  while  the  latter  declare  that 
"  the  decorations  were  pitiable."  The  second  repre- 
sentation did  not  take  place  until  three  days  later,  when 
the  crowd  was  even  greater  than  on  the  first  night,  and 
a  brisk  and  remunerative  business  was  done  by  certain 
speculators,  who  had  bought  up  the  two-franc  'parterre 
tickets  and  retailed  them  at  from  three  to  seven  times 
their    value. '     During    the    interval,    certain    improve- 

*  The  Memoires  secrets  attribute  much  of  the  applause  to  "  the  desire 
of  the  public  to  please  Madame  la  Dauphine,  who  did  not  cease  to  clap  her 
hands,  and  thus  compelled  the  Comtesse  de  Provence,  the  princes,  and  all 
the  boxes  to  do  likewise." 

^  Memoires  secrets,  vii.  185, 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  65 

merits  appear  to  have  been  made  in  the  ballets,  scenery, 
and  accessories,  for  the  opera  was  now  "  applauded  to 
the  skies,  and,  when  the  curtain  fell,  the  calls  for  the 
author  lasted  for  half  an  hour."  ^  The  author,  however, 
did  not  appear,  being  ill  in  bed,  a  fact  which,  consider- 
ing all  the  worry  and  anxiety  he  had  suffered  during  the 
past  few  weeks,  will  hardly  occasion  much  surprise. 

All  the  leading  performers  distinguished  themselves, 
and  Sophie  covered  herself  with  glory.  "  Mile.  Arnould," 
says  the  Mercure^  "  charms  as  much  as  she  astonishes 
us  in  the  role  of  Iphigenie,  by  her  dignified  and  sym- 
pathetic acting,  by  the  animation  and  correctness  of 
her  singing,  by  an  expression  always  true  and  delicate  ; 
by  her  voice  itself,  which  seems  in  this  opera  to  possess 
more  variety,  power,  and  extent."  Grimm,  a  far  less 
partial  observer,  where  Sophie  is  concerned,  than  the 
musical  critic  of  the  Mercure^  is  equally  enthusiastic  : 
"  She  renders  the  part  of  Iphigenie  as  it  has  perhaps 
never  been  rendered  at  the  Comedie-Fran^aise,  and  she 
sings  not  only  with  all  the  charm  that  we  have  found  in 
her  for  a  long  time  past,  but  with  an  infinite  precision, 
which  is  less  common  with  her.  It  seems  that  the 
Chevalier  Gluck  has  exactly  divined  the  character  and 
range  of  her  voice  and  has  assigned  to  it  all  the  notes 
of  her  part."  ^ 

Iphigenie  grew  in  favour  with  each  repetition  and 
soon  became  quite  the  rage,  as  a  proof  of  which  may  be 
mentioned  the  fact  that  the  ladies  began  to  wear  a  "  head- 
dress in  the  form  of  a  coronet  surmounted  by  the  crescent 
of  Diana,  whence  escaped  a  kind  of  veil  that  covered 
the  back  of  the  head  ;  it  was  called  a  Vl-phigenie.''^ 

^  Grimm,  Correspondance  litteraire,  viii.  322. 
2  Metra,  Correspondance  secrete,  i.  64. 

E 


66  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Encouraged  by  the  success  which  had  attended 
Iphigenis,  Gluck  at  once  set  to  work  to  adapt  Orfeo, 
the  most  successful  of  the  operas  he  had  produced  in 
Italy,  for  the  Paris  stage.  A  good  many  alterations  were 
necessary,  as  the  title-part  had  originally  been  written 
for  a  contralto,  the  celebrated  Guadagni,  and  it  had  now 
to  be  cast  for  Legros.  That  gentleman,  whose  head 
would  appear  to  have  been  slightly  turned  by  the  applause 
he  had  received  as  Achilles,  when  handed  his  part,  in- 
formed the  composer  that  he  should  decline  to  sing  it, 
unless  he  had  an  opportunity  of  making  a  brilliant  exit 
in  the  first  act ;  and  this  necessitated  further  alterations. 
However,  the  rest  of  the  troupe  were  by  this  time  far 
more  amenable  to  reason  than  they  had  been  during 
the  rehearsals  of  Iphigenie,  and  by  the  end  of  July  the 
opera  was  ready  for  production. 

It  was  while  Or-phee  was  in  preparation  that  an  inci- 
dent occurred  which  was  not  without  its  effect  upon 
Sophie  Arnould's  connection  with  the  operas  of  Gluck. 
After  her  triumph  in  the  part  of  Iphigenie,  Sophie  had, 
of  course,  been  entrusted  with  that  of  Eurydice,  and 
had  persuaded  the  composer  to  hold  some  informal 
rehearsals  in  her  apartment  in  the  Rue  Neuve-des- 
Petits-Champs.  Now,  for  some  reason,  the  prima 
donna's  titular  protector,  the  Prince  d'Henin,  had  con- 
ceived a  strong  antipathy  to  Gluck  (Mr.  Douglas  supposes 
that  he  was  displeased  at  the  frequency  of  the  composer's 
visits  to  his  mistress's  house,  though,  as  jealousy  was 
certainly  not  one  of  his  failings,  this  seems  to  us  hardly 
probable),  and  had  on  several  occasions  let  fall  very 
disparaging  remarks  about  the  German  musician,  which 
had  in  due  course  reached  the  latter's  ears.  One  day, 
in   the   midst   of  a   rehearsal,   the   Prince   d'Henin   was 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  ey 

announced.  All  rose  from  their  seats  and  bowed — all, 
that  is  to  say,  save  Gluck,  who  settled  himself  more 
firmly  in  his  chair  and  took  not  the  slightest  notice  of 
the  distinguished  visitor. 

"  I  was  under  the  impression,"  remarked  the  Prince, 
when  he  had  recovered  from  his  first  astonishment,"  that 
it  is  the  custom  in  France  to  rise  when  any  one  enters 
the  room,  especially  if  it  be  a  person  of  consideration." 
Gluck  sprang  from  his  seat,  walked  up  to  the  speaker, 
and,  looking  him  full  in  the  face,  replied  :  "  It  is  the 
custom  in  Germany,  Monsieur,  to  rise  only  for  those 
whom  one  esteems."  Then,  turning  to  Sophie,  he  added  : 
"  Since  I  perceive.  Mademoiselle,  that  you  are  not 
mistress  in  your  own  house,  I  leave  you  and  shall  return 
no  more."  With  which  he  picked  up  his  hat  and  stalked 
out. 

Gluck  wanted  to  challenge  the  prince  to  a  duel,  but, 
being  assured  that  such  a  step  would  be  useless,  as  the 
latter  would  certainly  shelter  himself  behind  his  rank 
and  refuse  to  fight  with  a  musician,  took  counsel  with  his 
friend  and  admirer  the  Due  de  Nivernais.  That  noble- 
man, whom  Lord  Chesterfield  had  once  held  up  to  his 
son  as  a  model  for  him  to  form  himself  upon,  was  now 
in  his  sixty-eighth  year,  notwithstanding  which  he  at 
once  constituted  himself  the  composer's  champion, 
and  informed  M.  d'Henin  that  he  must  either  apologise 
to  Gluck  or  fight  him  (the  duke).  In  the  meanwhile, 
the  story  had  reached  Marie  Antoinette — now  Queen — 
who  sent  a  peremptory  order  to  the  prince  to  make 
reparation  to  her  injured  'protege^  under  pain  of  her 
displeasure.  The  latter,  reflecting  that  even  if  he  escaped 
the  sword  of  the  duke,  who  handled  one  as  neatly  as  he 
composed  verses,  he  would  undoubtedly  be  exiled,  had 


68  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

no  choice  but  to  obey,  and,  with  a  very  bad  grace,  called 
upon  Gluck  and  made  the  amende  honorable. 

Orphee  et  Eurydice  was  produced  on  August  2  and 
met  with  a  success  surpassing  even  that  of  Iphigenie. 
The  same,  unfortunately,  cannot  be  said  of  Sophie. 
The  friendly  critic  of  the  Mercure  declares  that  "  she 
acted  and  sang  with  much  soul,  intelligence,  and  correct- 
ness "  ;  but  the  general  opinion  seems  to  have  been  that 
her  display  was  decidedly  inferior  to  that  which  she  had 
given  in  the  previous  opera.  This  impression  is,  no  doubt, 
partly  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  she  was  on 
this  occasion  somewhat  overshadowed  by  Legros,  who, 
Grimm  tell  us,  "  sang  the  principal  role  with  so  much 
fire,  taste,  and  sentiment,  that  it  was  difhcult  to  recognise 
him."  At  the  same  time,  it  is  evident  that  her  voice 
was  no  longer  equal  to  the  strain  of  any  very  exacting 
part,  especially  if,  as  was  now  very  frequently  the  case, 
she  happened  to  be  in  indifferent  health. 

In  the  early  days  of  January  1775,  Iphigenie,  in  which 
Gluck  had  made  several  alterations,  was  revived  and 
received  with  even  more  enthusiasm  than  on  its  first 
production.  All  the  artistes  resumed  their  old  parts, 
and  Sophie's  rendering  of  the  heroine  was  again  loudly 
applauded.  She  did  not,  however,  enjoy  her  success 
for  long,  as,  after  a  few  performances,  she  resigned  her 
part  to  Mile.  Laguerre,  who  in  March  fell  ill  and  was, 
in  her  turn,  replaced  by  Rosalie  Levasseur. 

Sophie's  health,  at  this  time,  would  appear  to  have 
been  far  from  satisfactory.  Any  way,  she  did  not  sing 
again  for  more  than  ten  months,  and  thus  took  no  part 
in  Cy there  assiegee,  a  light  opera  first  produced  in  1759, 
and  now  reconstructed  by  Gluck,  at  the  request  of  Marie 
Antoinette.     The  libretto  was  by  Favart,  and  the  incon- 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  69 

gruity  between  liis  light  and  playful  style  and  the  solemn 
and  pathetic  music  of  the  composer  caused  the  piece  to 
be  very  coldly  received. 

At  the  beginning  of  December,  Sophie  reappeared 
in  the  role  of  Ad^le  in  Adele  de  Ponthieu,  a  part  which  she 
had  successfully  created  three  years  before,  and  might 
have  repeated  the  triumph  she  had  then  secured,  but  for 
an  unfortunate  incident  which  occurred  on  the  first  night. 

Louis  XVI. 's  younger  brother,  the  Comte  d'Artois 
(afterwards  Charles  X.) — a  very  different  person  in  those 
days  from  the  gloomy  and  Jesuit-ridden  old  monarch 
of  1830 — attended  the  performance,  and,  from  the 
shelter  of  his  private  box,  proceeded,  as  was  his  wont,  to 
ogle  and  make  signs  to  the  actresses  upon  the  stage.  Pre- 
sently he  cast "  a  benevolent  glance  "  upon  Mile.  Arnould, 
when  that  lady  so  far  forgot  the  respect  due  to  the  visitor's 
exalted  rank  as  to  smile  familiarly  in  his  direction,  "  exactly 
as  she  might  have  done  to  a  comrade  or  a  lover."  The 
audience,  the  chronicler  tell  us,  was  inexpressibly  shocked 
at  the  lady's  behaviour,  and  "  testified  its  indignation 
in  a  manner  that  was  humiliating  to  her."  ^ 

Meanwhile,  Gluck  was  at  work  upon  his  Alceste,  and 
Sophie  had  every  reason  to  believe  that,  after  her  brilliant 
triumph  in  Iphigenie  and  her  very  successful  rendering 
of  the  part  of  Eurydice,  she  would  again  be  cast  for  the 
principal  role.  But  alas  !  a  bitter  disappointment  was 
in  store  for  her. 

Wc  have  mentioned  that  Rosalie  Levasseur  was  the 
mistress  of  Mercy-Argenteau,  the  Austrian  Ambassador 
at  the  French  Court.  Shrewd  and  capable  though 
Mercy  was  in  everything  relating  to  his  professional  duties 
— the   manner  in  which  he  had   succeeded    in   keeping 

^  Memoires  secrets,  viii.  321. 


JO    LATER  QUEENS  OE  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  peace,  and  all  that  it  involved,  between  Marie 
Antoinette  and  Madame  du  Barry,  during  the  last  years 
of  the  late  King's  reign  was  a  perfect  masterpiece  of 
diplomacy — in  love,  he  appears  to  have  been  as  foolish 
as  any  of  the  gilded  youths  who  haunted  the  coulisses 
of  the  Opera  and  the  Comedie-Fran^aise.  The  fair 
Rosalie  exercised  the  most  absolute  ascendency  over  him 
— a  fact  which  was  the  more  astonishing,  as  all  Paris 
knew  that  she  had  an  amant  de  coeur,  in  the  person  of 
Nicolet,  the  clown.  Mercy,  in  fact,  could  deny  her 
nothing,  and  even  carried  his  infatuation  so  far  as  to 
purchase  for  her  a  barony  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire, 
with  a  considerable  revenue  ;  while,  on  another  occasion, 
he  condescended  to  bribe  Larrivee,  whose  singing  in  a 
certain  opera  the  young  lady  found  was  quite  eclipsing 
her  own,  not  to  put  forth  his  full  powers.^ 

Now,  Rosalie  had  set  her  heart  upon  supplanting 
Sophie  and  filling  the  principal  part  in  the  forthcoming 
opera,  and  called  upon  her  lover  to  assist  her  to  realise 
her  ambition.  First,  she  suggested — or  persuaded  Mercy 
to  suggest — that  Gluck  should  take  up  his  quarters  in 
her  house,  in  the  Rue  des  Fossoyeurs-Saint-Germain, 
and  give  her  singing-lessons  ;  a  proposal  to  which  the 
composer,  who,  besides  being  an  Austrian  subject,  was 
under  considerable  obligations  to  the  Ambassador,  who, 
with  Marie  Antoinette,  had  been  mainly  instrumental 
in  bringing  him  to  Paris,  readily  consented.  Next,  she 
induced  him  to  teach  her  the  music  of  Alceste  and  took 
care  to  show  herself  a  docile  as  well  as  an  industrious 
pupil.  Finally,  she  hinted  pretty  plainly  that  he  ought 
to  entrust  her  with  the  title-part  when  the  opera  was 

^  Campardon,  V Academic  royale  de  Musique  au  XVIII'  sihle  :  Article, 
"  Levaiseur." 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  71 

produced,  pointing  out  that,  though  she  might  lack  the 
histrionic  ability  of  Mile.  Arnould,  her  voice  was  fresher 
and  more  powerful,  to  say  nothing  of  the  advantage 
which  the  composer  would  derive  from  having  the  part 
rendered  exactly  as  he  desired,  whereas  the  elder  actress 
would  very  probably  insist  on  rendering  it  in  conformity 
with  her  own  ideas. 

These  arguments  were,  it  is  needless  to  say,  warmly 
seconded  by  Mercy ;  and  Gluck,  who  was  anxious  to  please 
the  amorous  diplomatist,  and  in  whose  mind  the  insult  he 
had  received  from  Sophie's  titular  protector  perhaps  still 
rankled,  after  some  hesitation,  yielded  to  their  wishes. 

"Gluck,"  says  the  composer's  French  biographer, 
Desnoiresterres,  "  was  wanting  in  gratitude  towards 
Mile.  Arnould,  so  charming,  so  passionate  in  Iphigenie, 
so  pathetic  still,  though  somewhat  eclipsed  by  Legros, 
in  Orpbee.^^  At  the  same  time,  he  points  out  that  Gluck 
would  never  have  superseded  Sophie  had  he  thought 
that  the  change  would  prejudice  his  work,  and  that 
the  event  proved  that  he  had  not  over-estimated  the 
talents  of  Rosalie  Levasseur,  who,  in  the  part  of  Alceste, 
"  displayed  much  art  and  sensibility."  ^ 

Poor  Sophie  seems  to  have  borne  her  disappointment, 
notwithstanding  that  she  could  hardly  have  failed  to 
see  in  it  the  end  of  her  own  dramatic  career,  with  praise- 
worthy equanimity,  merely  observing  when  she  heard 
the  news :  "  Rosalie  ought  certainly  to  have  the  part ; 
she  has  the  voice  of  the  people."  This  remark  was  duly 
repeated  to  her  triumphant  rival,  who  retaliated  by  a 
disgusting  lampoon,  composed  by  one  of  her  admirers 
named  Guichard,  copies  of  which  were  printed  and  cir- 
culated in  the  theatre,  while  others  were  sent  to  Sophie's 

^  Gluck  et  Piccini,  p.  132. 


72   LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

friends.  The  injured  lady,  however,  was  equal  to  the 
occasion ;  she  sent  certain  copies  which  had  fallen  into  her 
hands  to  the  journals,  and  turned  the  tables  very  adroitly 
on  Mile.  Levasseur  and  her  ally,  all  decent-minded 
persons  combining  to  condemn  such  methods  of  warfare. 

Although  the  dethroned  prima  donna  wisely  refrained 
from  giving  public  expression  to  her  feelings,  others  were 
not  prepared  to  imitate  her  discretion.  The  Prince 
d'Henin,  who  could  be  very  bold  indeed  when  there  was 
no  likelihood  of  his  being  called  upon  to  fight  a  duel, 
having  heard  that  there  was  some  talk  of  giving  Sophie's 
dressing-room  at  the  Opera  to  Rosalie  Levasseur,  went 
down  to  the  theatre  and  threatened  to  flog  the  unfortu- 
nate directors  within  an  inch  of  their  lives,  if  they  dared 
to  inflict  such  a  slight  upon  a  lady  whom  he  honoured 
with  his  protection  ;  the  few  critics  who  still  remained 
faithful  to  the  waning  star  condemned  in  unmeasured 
terms  the  selection  of  Mile.  Levasseur  for  so  important 
a  role  in  place  of  an  actress  "  who  had  so  long  been,  and 
still  was,  the  delight  of  the  Opera  "  ;  while  the  Anti- 
Gluckists,  only  too  delighted  to  find  so  stout  a  stick 
wherewith  to  belabour  the  composer,  raised  a  perfect 
howl  of  indignation. 

The  result  of  all  this  was  most  unfortunate  for  Sophie. 
The  contest  between  the  Gluckists  and  their  opponents 
had  now  reached  a  very  acute  stage,  and  it  was  the  general 
belief  of  the  composer's  admirers  that  the  partisans  of 
the  old  school  were  prepared  to  employ  the  most  question- 
able methods  in  order  to  counteract  the  ever-increasing 
popularity  of  the  German.  A  rumour  spread  that  a 
cabal  had  been  formed  to  ensure  the  failure  of  Alceste, 
and  that  Sophie  and  her  friends  had  joined  it.  There 
seems  to  have  been  little  truth  in  this  report,  the  best 


"m 


SOPH  IK  ARNOULD 

From  an  engraving  by  Pkud'hon  after  the  drawing  by  Ca-:i;KK  in  the  Colk-ciion 

of  M.  Godfrey  Meyer 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  73 

refutation  of  it  being  the  fact  that,  although  Alceste  was 
somewhat  coldly  received  at  first,  its  success  grew  with 
each  performance,  and  none  at  all,  so  far  as  it  concerned 
Sophie,  who,  in  a  letter  to  a  tlieatrical  journal,  Le  Nouveau 
Spectateur,  in  acknowledgment  of  some  sympathetic 
references  to  herself  which  had  appeared  in  a  previous 
issue,  expressly  disclaimed  all  hostility  to  Gluck  or  Rosalie 
Levasseur  : 

"  I  await  with  impatience  your  judgment  on  the 
opera  of  Alceste,  which  is  about  to  interest  and  divide 
all  Paris.  Your  views  will  confirm  those  which  I  myself 
have  formed  from  witnessing  the  rehearsals  only.  If 
the  success  which  I  obtained  in  Iphigenie  might  have 
predisposed  me  in  favour  of  the  authors,  their  want  of 
consideration,  I  even  venture  to  say  their  bad  conduct, 
towards  me  might  have  served  to  alter  my  opinion  of 
them.  But  I  have  too  much  respect  for  myself  to  join 
(as  these  gentlemen  would  have  people  believe)  in  any 
cabal  which  may  be  formed  for  or  against  the  new  work. 
Such  things  I  have  always  considered  beneath  me  ;  the 
former  savours  of  charlatanerie,  the  latter  of  baseness. 
I  have  confined  my  vengeance  to  not  asserting  my  right 
to  the  principal  role.^  But  no  personal  reason  will  make 
me  underrate  genius,  nor  prevent  me  from  rendering 
justice  to  that  of  M.  Gluck.  He  is,  I  proclaim  it  aloud, 
the  musician  of  the  soul  and  master  of  all  the  modulations 
that  express  sentiment  and  passion,  especially  grief. 

"  As  to  the  author  of  the  words,  I  leave  to  the  public 

*  By  the  rules  of  the  Opera,  Sophie,  as  senior  "  actrice  chantante  sevXe^'* 
could  have  insisted,  had  she  been  so  minded,  on  taking  the  part  of  Alceste. 
In  1774,  Mile.  Duplant,  who  then  occupied  that  position,  claimed  the  title- 
part  in  Iphighiie,  and  considerable  difficulty  was  experienced  in  persuading 
her  to  forego  her  claim,  and  be  content  with  Clytemnestra. 


74  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  task  of  judging  him.  If  I  belonged  to  theAcademie- 
Franc^aise,  my  opinion  would  carry  as  much  weight  as 
that  of  any  other  of  the  Forty.  But  I  belong  to  the 
Academie  Royale  de  Musique.  I  acknowledge  my 
incompetence  and  my  motto  is  :  tacet.  I  will  merely 
permit  myself  to  say  that  one  does  not  always  find  subjects 
as  interesting  as  Iphigenia,  nor  models  as  sublime  as 
Racine. 

"  In  regard  to  the  performers,  if  I  may  be  allowed 
to  speak  of  them,  I  should  praise  the  acting  of  M.  Gros 
[Legros],  in  the  part  of  Admetus,  and  the  singing  of  Mile. 
Rosalie,  in  the  part  of  Alceste. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  very  perfectly.  Monsieur, 
"  Your  very  humble  and  very  obedient  servant, 

*'  Sophie  Arnould." 

The  good  effect  which  this  letter  might  have  produced 
was,  unhappily,  entirely  discounted  by  a  series  of  bitter 
attacks  upon  Alceste,  Gluck,  and  Rosalie,  which  appeared 
in  subsequent  issues  of  the  same  journal.  On  the  day 
after  the  first  performance  of  the  new  opera,  the  Nouveau 
Spectateur  published  an  anonymous  letter,  containing  the 
following  choice  morsel  of  criticism  : 

"  It  seemed  as  if  the  music  was  being  sung  by  invalids 
who  had  just  swallowed  half  a  pint  of  emetic  and  were 
making  futile  efforts  to  vomit." 

This  was  soon  followed  by  a  second  letter  reproaching 
Gluck  for  having  taken  "  a  girl  like  Rosalie  to  play  the 
part  of  Alceste,"  and  several  articles  declaring  that  the 
opera  was  "  more  mournful  than  affecting,"  and  that, 
in  preferring  Mile.  Levasseur  to  Mile.  Arnould,  the 
composer  showed  that  he  "  misunderstood  the  taste  of 
the  nation  in  music  as  well  as  in  acting." 


SOPHIE  ARNOITI-D  75 

These  letters,  there  can  be  little  doubt,  were  the  work 
of  Lefuel  de  Mericourt,  the  editor  of  the  journal  in 
question,  a  libellous  scribe  of  the  school  of  Pidansat  de 
Mairobert.^  But  the  admirers  of  Gluck  and  the  friends 
of  Rosalie  believed,  or  affected  to  believe,  that,  if  not 
written,  they  had,  at  any  rate,  been  inspired  by  Sophie, 
and  thirsted  for  revenge. 

Their  opportunity  arrived  at  the  beginning  of  the 
following  October,  when  Sophie,  in  the  vain  hope  of 
counterbalancing  the  success  of  Rosalie  in  Alceste, 
created  the  part  of  Lyris  in  Euthyme  et  Lyris,  an  opera 
by  a  very  mediocre  composer  named  Desormery.  The 
theatre  became  the  battlefield  of  the  contending  factions. 
The  Anti-Gluckists  and  the  personal  friends  of  Sophie 
crowded  to  the  Palais-Royal  and  loudly  acclaimed  the 
singer  ;  but  the  opposition  came  in  even  greater  numbers, 
and  the  applause  was  drowned  in  a  tempest  of  groans, 
hisses,  and  cat-calls. 

Marie  Antoinette  heard  of  the  scenes  which  were 
nightly  taking  place  at  the  theatre,  and,  though  herself 
an  enthusiastic  supporter  of  Gluck,  was  indignant  at  the 
treatment  accorded  an  actress  whose  talent  she  had  often 
admired.  She  determined  to  come  to  her  assistance 
and,  therefore,  visited  the  Opera  on  two  or  three  occa- 
sions and  warmly  applauded  Sophie.  On  the  evenings 
on  which  she  was  present  the  opposition  was  silent,  but 
the  next  the  hissing  and  hooting  broke  out  with  re- 
doubled violence,  rather  intensified  than  otherwise 
by  the  Queen's  intervention.  "  To-day,"  we  read  in 
the    Memoires    secrets,    "  the    Queen    being    no    longer 

*  In  October  of  that  year,  two  successive  issues  of  this  worthy's  organ 
were  confiscated  by  the  police,  on  account  of  the  scandalous  attacks  upon 
certain  members  of  the  theatrical  profession  which  they  contained. 


^6    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

present  to  intimidate  the  pit,  the  partisans  of  the 
Chevalier  Gluck  arrived  in  force  and  completely  over- 
whelmed Mile.  Arnoux  {sic)  with  the  hisses  which  they  had 
spared  her  at  the  previous  performance.  She  also  sang 
badly.  One  does  not  believe  that  she  will  dare  to  continue 
to  present  herself  to  the  eyes  of  the  public,  and  especially 
to  its  ears  ;  and  perhaps  this  humiliation  will  mark  the 
period  of  a  definite  retirement,  to  which  the  weakness 
of  her  voice  ought  to  have  determined  her  ere  this."  ^ 

The  writer  of  the  above  paragraph  was,  no  doubt, 
actuated  by  personal  hostility  to  the  actress ;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  it  was  only  too  true  that  Sophie's  voice  was 
failing  rapidly.  Early  in  March  1777,  Ifhigenie  en 
Aulide  was  again  revived,  and  Sophie  reappeared  in  the 
part  which  she  had  created  so  brilliantly.  She  was  now, 
however,  manifestly  unequal  to  the  effort  required  of 
her,  and  seemed  to  have  altogether  lost  her  old  power 
of  holding  the  audience  enthralled.  "  The  public," 
she  had  once  observed,  "  behaves  to  actresses  like  Love 
to  warriors  ;  it  has  no  consideration  for  an  old  soldier  "  ; 
and  she  herself  is  a  particularly  painful  illustration  of 
the  truth  of  her  own  axiom,  at  least,  so  far  as  it  concerns 
the  Parisian  playgoers  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Forget- 
ting the  many  triumphs  of  the  woman  who  had  for  nearly 
twenty  years  been  its  idol,  the  public  seemed  to  see  before 
it  only  a  performer  who  had  committed  the  unpardonable 
offence  of  disappointing  its  expectations,  and  joined  with 
the  Gluckists  and  the  personal  enemies  of  the  actress 
in  expressing  its  disgust.     Sophie  was  relentlessly  hissed.^ 

*  Memoires  secrets^  ix.  230. 

^  La  Harpe  relates  that  in  the  scene  where  Iphigenia  says  to  Achilles 
"  Vous  hrulez.  que  je  sois  partie,^''  the  pit  applied  the  words  to  the  actress 
and  burst  into  ironical  applause. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  77 

Again  the  Queen  attempted  to  stem  the  tide  of  public 
feeling  by  attending  the  theatre  and  applauding  the  unfor- 
tunate singer.  But  Marie  Antoinette  was  now  fast  losing 
what  popularity  she  had  once  enjoyed  with  the  Parisians, 
and  even  her  presence  and  example  "  did  not  prevent  the 
malcontents  from  continuing  their  indecent  manoeuvres." 

It  is  not  easy  to  understand  why  Sophie,  who,  in  the 
heyday  of  her  success,  had  often  absented  herself  from  the 
theatre  for  months  together,  merely  from  indolence  or 
caprice,  should  have  continued  to  appear  on  the  stage, 
in  the  face  of  these  hostile  demonstrations.  The  only 
explanation  which  her  biographers  can  find  is  that  she 
had  recently  concluded  with  the  directors  of  the  Opera 
a  fresh  arrangement,  whereby,  in  lieu  of  the  regular 
salary  which  she  hitherto  received,  she  was  to  be  paid 
the  sum  of  five  louis  for  each  performance,  and  that, 
since  she  is  known  to  have  been  at  this  time  in  pecuniary 
difficulties,  she  endured  the  taunts  of  the  public  for  the 
sake  of  the  money. 

For  our  own  part,  we  are  inclined  to  think  that, 
though  financial  considerations  may  not  have  been  without 
their  effect  upon  her  decision,  her  chief  reason  was  a 
very  different  one.  Sophie  was  a  courageous  and  high- 
spirited  woman  ;  she  knew  that  the  demonstrations 
against  her  were  prompted  far  more  by  personal  animosity 
than  by  the  failure  of  her  powers,  and  she  was  determined 
not  to  allow  her  enemies  the  satisfaction  of  boasting  that 
they  had  driven  her  from  the  stage. 

The  malice  of  her  foes,  however,  pursued  her  even 
outside  the  theatre.  She  was  hissed  while  performing 
at  a  concert  given  by  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Chartres. 
She  was  driven,  one  day,  from  the  garden  of  the  Palais- 
Royal,  by  an  ill-bred  youth,  who,  on^recognising  her, 


7^    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

began  to  sing  the  air  from  Alceste  :  "  Caron  t^appdle, 
entends  sa  voix  I  "  Even  Lefuel  de  Mericourt  abandoned 
her,  and  in  an  article  in  his  precious  journal,  "  regretted 
the  loss  of  a  part  of  her  physical  gifts  by  an  actress  who 
had  been  so  long  the  idol  of  the  public." 

At  length,  at  the  beginning  of  June  1778,  Sophie 
decided  to  retire  from  the  stage.  She  continued  to  sing 
from  time  to  time  at  the  Concerts  of  Sacred  Music,  at 
benefit  performances,  and  in  private  theatres  ;  but  at  the 
Opera  her  name  was  definitely  placed  on  the  retired  list. 
For  her  services  at  the  theatre,  she  received  a  pension  of 
2000  livres,  and  one  of  the  same  amount  in  her  quality 
as  Court  singer.  This,  as  pensions  went  in  those  days, 
must  be  considered  liberal  treatment  and  compares  very 
favourably  with  the  lot  of  the  actors  and  actresses  of  the 
Comedie-Fran^aise,  who,  even  after  thirty  years'  service, 
only  received  a  pension  of  1500  livres.  Mile.  Clairon, 
the  greatest  tragedienne  of  her  time,  on  her  retirement 
in  1766,  after  twenty-two  years  on  the  stage,  had  to  rest 
content  with  one  of  1000  livres. 

Now  began  for  Sophie  Arnould  a  life  very  different 
from  that  to  which  she  had  so  long  been  accustomed. 
Youth,  beauty,  and  fame  were  gone,  and  with  them  her 
lovers  too,  for,  soon  after  her  retirement  from  the  stage, 
the  Prince  d'Henin  deserted  her  for  Mile.  Raucourt, 
of  the  Comedie-Frangaise,  whom  Sophie  had  generously 
taken  to  live  with  her,  and  endeavoured  to  protect 
against  the  hostility  of  the  public.^ 

One  thing,  however,  still  remained  to  her — her  wit, 
which,  if  it  were  powerless  to  retain  her  wealthy  and 
aristocratic  admirers,  sufficed  to  draw  to  her  salon  men 

'^See  p.  170  infra. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  79 

whose  friendship  was  infinitely  to  be  preferred.  Poets, 
philosophers,  encyclopaedists,  dramatists  were  all  at  home 
in  the  house  of  Sophie  Arnould.  Diderot  and  d'Alembert 
were  among  her  most  frequent  guests  ;  Helvetius,  who 
had  once,  for  a  brief  period,  been  very  near  and  dear  to 
her,  remained  one  of  her  greatest  friends  ;  Beaumarchais 
delighted  in  an  assaut  d^esprit  with  his  witty  hostess  ; 
Rulhiere  came  and  brought  with  him  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau  ;  Marmontel,  Duclos,  Favart,  Linguct,  and 
a  host  of  lesser  lights  made  her  salon  one  of  their  favourite 
rendezvous  ;  that  most  affable  of  literary  noblemen, 
the  Prince  de  Ligne,  seldom  failed  to  make  his  appear- 
ance there  whenever  he  happened  to  visit  the  French 
capital,  and  Voltaire  himself — King  Voltaire — when  he 
came  to  Paris  in  1778,  to  enjoy  at  last  the  triumph  of  his 
renown  at  its  centre — and  to  die — condescended  to  call 
upon  Sophie. 

The  day  and  hour  of  the  great  man's  visit  were  duly 
notified  to  Sophie,  who,  knowing  what  kind  of  a  reception 
would  please  him,  collected  a  band  of  children,  headed 
by  her  own  little  daughter,  Alexandrine,  who,  the  moment 
Voltaire  entered  the  room,  sprang  forward  and  proceeded 
to  hug  and  kiss  him.  The  Patriarch  was  delighted. 
"  You  wish  to  kiss  me,"  said  he  laughing,  "  and  I  have 
no  face  left  !  " 

After  conversing  with  Sophie  for  some  time,  the  poet 
remarked  :  "  Ah,  Mademoiselle  !  I  am  eighty-four 
years  old,  and  I  have  committed  eighty-four  follies." 

"  A  mere  trifle,"  replied  Sophie  consolingly  ;  "  I 
am  not  yet  forty,  and  I  have  committed  a  thousand  !  " 

That  same  year,  Mesmer  visited  Paris,  professing  to 
cure  all  diseases  by  means  of  animal  magnetism,  and 
speedily  became  the  doctor  a  la  mode.     Some  of  Sophie's 


8o    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

friends  advised  her  to  consult  him,  but,  as  she  did  not 
happen  to  have  any  need  of  his  professional  services 
herself,  she  sent  her  lap-dog  instead,  declaring  that,  if 
he  could  cure  that  pampered  animal,  who  had  been  ailing 
for  some  time  past,  presumably  as  the  result  of  a  too 
generous  diet,  she  would  believe  in  him.  Mesmer, 
anxious  to  prove  that  the  success  of  his  system  was  not 
dependent  upon  the  credulity  of  the  patient,  undertook 
the  case,  and,  in  a  few  days,  returned  the  dog,  with  the 
assurance  that  it  was  now  in  the  best  of  health.  Sophie 
thereupon  wrote  him  a  letter  of  thanks,  which  the  doctor 
sent  to  the  journals.  He  soon,  however,  had  cause  to 
regret  this  step,  for,  four  days  later,  the  dog  died,  much 
to  the  joy  of  the  sceptics,  who  asked  Sophie  what  could 
have  induced  her  to  give  the  German  a  testimonial  so 
little  deserved.  "  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,'* 
she  replied ;  "  the  poor  animal  died  in  excellent  health." 
When  Sophie  retired  from  the  stage,  she  was  appa- 
rently in  possession  of  what  most  members  of  her  pro- 
fession, in  those  days,  would  have  considered  a  very 
comfortable  income,  as  from  a  packet  of  letters  published 
for  the  first  time  by  M.  Henri  Gauthier-Villars,  in  La 
Nouvelle  Revue  (February  1897),  we  learn  that  her 
notary,  a  certain  M.  AUeaume,  was  in  the  habit  of  paying 
her  fifty  louis  a  month,  out  of  the  moneys  she  was  sup- 
posed to  lodge  in  his  hands. ^     The   maintenance   and 

'  In  addition  to  her  pensions,  she  had  2000  livres  a  year  from  a  settle- 
ment made  upon  her  by  Lauraguais,  and  owned  a  house  at  Port-a-1'Anglais, 
which  she  sold,  some  months  after  her  retirement  from  the  stage,  for  20,000 
livres.  From  a  letter  to  Alleaume,  written  apparently  during  the  winter 
of  1 775-1776,  we  learn  that  she  was  then  in  receipt  of  allowances  from  at 
least  two  more  of  her  noble  lovers ;  4250  livres  from  the  Prince  de  Conti, 
and  3250  from  the  Prince  de  Conde ;  but  how  long  these  payments  were 
continued  it  is  impossible  to  say. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  8i 

education  of  her  three  children,  however,  seems  to  have 
involved  her  in  considerable  expense,  while  during  her 
long  years  of  prosperity  she  had  acquired  such  extrava- 
gant habits  that  her  income  was  quite  inadequate  for 
her  needs,  and  she  was,  in  consequence,  continually  in 
pecuniary  difficulties.  Her  letters  to  Alleaume,  indeed, 
are  almost  without  exception  demands  for  money,  in 
which  she  brings  all  her  persuasive  powers  to  bear  upon 
the  stern  man  of  business,  in  the  hope  of  inducing  him 
to  unlock  his  cash-box  and  advance  her  "  her  month." 

"  Well,  -petit  -phe  Alleaume,"  she  writes,  *'  I  never 
see  you  now,  and  I  ask  myself  why  ? — why  this  difference 
to  poor  Sophie  ? — for  it  is  not  kind  of  you  to  avoid  the 
poor  people  who  love  you.  You  will  reply  to  that  : 
'  But  it  is  you  who  never  see  me,  unless  you  have  some- 
thing to  ask.' 

"  Wait  and  see  if  I  never  ask  for  anything,  unless  I 
visit  you.  Here  for  example  :  Will  you  please  advance 
me  my  month  ?   for  I  am  absolutely  without  funds. 

"  Will  petit  pere  Alleaume  remain  inflexible  for  four 
days  to  the  request  of  Sophie  ?  " 

And  again  : 

"  I  swear  to  you,  though  you  may  be  somewhat 
incredulous  as  to  the  state  of  my  mind,  that  when  you 
have  put  my  little  business  clear  and  straight — I  promise 
you,  on  my  word  as  a  living  being,  that  I  will  think 
twice  ere  I  incur  the  smallest  expense.  It  is  not  possible 
for  me  to  be  miserly — it  is  a  disgusting  vice." 

Then,  in  a  third  letter  : 

"  Eh  !  hon  jour,  my  good  friend  ;  it  is  an  age  since 
I  saw  you  or  embraced  you.  When  are  you  going  to  spend 
a  morning  with  me  ?  Do  you  know  that  I  have  learned 
a  good  deal  of  sense  since  the  beginning  of  the  year  ? 

F 


82  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Do  you  know  that  I  intend  to  keep  my  word  and  commit 
hardly  any  foolish  extravagance  ;  and  you  will  see  that 
you  will  be  very  satisfied  with  poor  Sophie.  If  you  knew 
how  many  small  debts  I  have  discharged,  you  would  be 
well  content  with  your  Sophie.  I  have  not  yet  got  into 
my  den  (at  Port-^-1'Anglais),  but  so  soon  as  I  have,  I 
should  like  to  meet  you,  and  talk  over  all  this  business 
at  our  leisure.  If,  in  the  meanwhile,  you  would  like 
to  come  this  evening  and  eat  a  truffled  turkey,  much 
bigger  and  a  thousand  times  more  of  a  dinde  than  I  am, 
you  will  be  welcome." 

In  spite  of  these  promises  of  amendment,  we  find  her, 
shortly  afterwards,  writing  to  inform  the  worthy  notary 
that  an  execution  has  been  levied  upon  her  for  non- 
payment of  her  capitation  tax  and  other  dues,  and  to  beg 
him  to  send  her  the  sum  of  196  livres  to  enable  her  to  get 
rid  of  the  emissaries  of  the  law. 

As  time  goes  on,  the  letters  multiply,  all  full  of  en- 
treaties, excuses,  promises,  regrets,  expostulations.  She 
assures  him  that  she  cares  nothing  for  money — one  can 
well  believe  that — but  has  an  intense  desire  to  be  free 
from  debt.  Then,  when  he  shows  a  marked  disinclina- 
tion to  make  any  further  advances,  she  declares  that  not 
even  on  the  stage  of  the  Opera  has  she  met  with  so  in- 
human, so  hard-hearted,  a  monster.  But  the  notary, 
annoyed  at  finding  that  her  promises  are  never  kept, 
and  that,  notwithstanding  her  protestations,  she  makes 
no  change  in  her  extravagant  way  of  living,  shuts  himself 
up  in  his  office  and  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  her  appeals.  Sophie 
redoubles  her  entreaties,  reiterates  her  vows  of  amend- 
ment, sends  him  epistles  bedewed  with  her  tears.  All  is 
in  vain  ;  fetit  fire  Alleaume  remains  inflexible. 

In  November  1780,  Sophie's  daughter,  Alexandrine, 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  83 

married  a  certain  Andre  de  Murville,  a  young  man  of 
respectable  middle-class  family,  who  dabbled  in  litera- 
ture. Alexandrine  was,  at  this  time,  only  in  her  four- 
teenth year  ;  an  ungainly,  red-haired  child,  who  seems  to 
have  inherited  both  her  mother's  biting  wit  and — or, 
at  least,  so  scandal  asserted — her  mother's  indifference 
to  the  conventions  of  morality.^  For  which  reasons, 
Sophie  was  probably  glad  to  be  rid  of  her.  The  cere- 
mony took  place  at  Saint-Roch,  and  was  attended  by 
several  worthy  bourgeois  couples,  relatives  of  Murville, 
who  must  have  been  considerably  shocked  when  Sophie, 
on  being  presented  to  them,  remarked  upon  the  strange- 
ness of  the  circumstance  that  the  mother  of  the  bride 
should  be  the  only  unmarried  lady  present.^ 

For  the  next  few  years,  we  hear  little  of  Sophie.  She 
appears,  like  so  many  women  of  her  class,  to  have  en- 
deavoured to  find  consolation  in  devotion,  but  soon  gave 
up  the  attempt,  protesting  that  the  directors  of  conscience 
were  worse  than  the  directors  of  the  Opera.  By  the 
bankruptcy  of  the  Prince  de  Guemenee,  in  1782,  she  lost 
a  considerable  part  of  her  fortune — how  we  are  not  told — 
a  disaster  which  probably  accounts  for  the  fact  that  she 
soon  afterwards  quitted  Paris  and  took  a  little  house  at 
Clichy-la-Garenne,  "  with  an  acre  of  land,  which,  how- 
ever, she  did  not  cultivate."  Here,  in  1785,  she  was 
joined  by  her  daughter,  whose  marriage  had  turned  out 
very  unhappily,  and  who  was  now  suing  for  a  separation, 
on  the  ground  of  her  husband's  cruelty. 

In  her  plaint,  which  bears  date  October   19,   1795, 

^  The  antiquary  Millin,  who  annotated  a  copy  of  Amoldiana  which 
afterwards  came  into  the  Goncourts'  possession,  asserts  that  she  had  had 
tender  relations  with  the  Comte  d'Artois  and  "  my  lord  "  Stuart. 

*  Mr.  R.  B.  Douglas,  "  Sophie  Arnould  :   actress  and  wit,"  p,  209. 


84   LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Alexandrine  declares  that  "  since  she  had  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  espouse  the  sieur  Murville,  she  had  never 
known  a  moment's  peace  ";  that  he  had  "  several  times 
struck  her  at  the  end  of  frightful  scenes  "  ;  that  she  had 
been  forced  to  make  over  to  him  all  the  moneys  that  had 
been  settled  upon  her,  and  that  she  was  now  "  sick, 
destitute,  and  in  urgent  need  of  medical  assistance  to 
prevent  the  loss  of  an  eye,  which  her  husband  had 
grievously  injured  at  the  risk  of  killing  her." 

In  a  second  plaint,  made  the  following  year,  she  relates 
that,  a  few  days  after  the  birth  of  her  first  child,  towards 
whose  support  he  now  refused  to  contribute,  her  husband 
had  called  her  atrocious  names,  seized  her  violently  by 
the  right  arm,  "  with  such  force  as  to  leave  a  red  mark," 
and,  finally,  turned  her  out  of  the  house,  at  one  o'clock 
in  the  morning. 

About  the  same  time,  the  unhappy  Alexandrine 
applied  to  the  Minister  of  the  King's  Household  for 
admission  to  the  Opera  in  the  humble  capacity  of  a 
chorus-singer  ;  but,  for  some  reason,  her  request  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  granted. 

At  Clichy,  Sophie  lived  a  very  quiet  life,  though  she 
seems  to  have  been  fond  of  entertaining  her  humble 
neighbours.  "  I  went  sometimes  to  see  Mile.  Arnould, 
at  Clichy,"  writes  Millin.  "  One  day,  I  found  her  in 
the  midst  of  a  large  circle.  There  were  twenty  persons 
at  table.  I  was  on  the  point  of  retiring,  when  she  called 
me  back  and  said  to  me  :  '  Come  in  !  I  am  marrying 
the  son  of  my  cook  to  the  daughter  of  my  gardener. 
Both  families  are  my  guests  ;  we  are  celebrating  the 
pleasures  of  Love  and  Equality.'  In  the  evening,  her 
two  sons  arrived.  They  wanted  money.  She  had  none 
to  give  them.     *  Ah,  well  !  '  said  she,  *  each  of  you  take 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  85 

a  horse  from  the  stable.'  And  they  went  away  with  the 
two  horses."  ^ 

The  expenses  of  her  family — she  had  now  to  support 
Alexandrine  and  her  two  children,  in  addition  to  her 
sons — pressed  heavily  upon  poor  Sophie,  and,  in  January 
1788,  we  find  her  writing  to  one  of  her  old  friends,  a 
financier  of  the  name  of  Boutin,  begging  him  to  arrange 
for  her  a  loan  of  24,000  livres,  which  she  proposes  to 
repay  by  four  yearly  instalments  of  6000  livres.  As 
security,  she  offers  a  mortgage  on  her  house  at  Clichy, 
which,  she  declares,  is  worth  20,000  francs,  and  another 
on  the  furniture  of  a  house  belonging  to  her  in  the  Rue 
Caumartin,  and  assures  him  that  she  will  keep  her  promise 
to  repay  the  money  "  with  certainty,  honour,  and 
probity." 

She  appears  to  have  obtained  the  accommodation 
she  sought,  but  was  speedily  in  difficulties  again,  and 
compelled  to  apply  for  assistance  to  some  of  her  old 
friends,  whom,  when  they  sent  her  money,  or  even 
"  evinced  an  intention  to  oblige  her,"  she  overwhelms 
with  gratitude,  declaring  that,  if  it  be  true,  as  learned 
men  assert,  that  the  soul  never  perishes,  her  own  will 
remember  the  obligation,  even  after  death. 

Yet,  harassed  though  she  was,  she  could  sympathise 
with  the  distress  of  others.  On  January  21, 1789,  a  young 
man  of  the  name  of  Bompas  was  arrested  at  the  Barriere 
de  Clichy,  with  three  parcels  in  his  possession,  containing 
a  large  quantity  of  lady's  underwear,  "  marked  with  the 
letters  S.A.  in  red  cotton,"  a  porcelain  mustard-pot,  a 
green  morocco  case  holding  two  decanters  and  a  crystal 
goblet,  two  pairs  of  candlesticks,  and  various  other 
articles.  On  being  brought  before  a  commissary  of 
'  Cited  by  the  Goncourts,  Sophie  Arnould,  p.  132. 


86    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

police,  he  confessed  that  the  above-mentioned  articles 
were  the  property  of  Mile.  Arnould,  whose  residence  he 
had  burglariously  entered  the  previous  evening.  Sophie 
caused  inquiries  to  be  made  and,  finding  that  Bompas 
was  a  journeyman  carpenter  of  hitherto  irreproachable 
character,  who  had  been  out  of  work  for  several  weeks 
and  had  been  driven  to  the  theft  by  necessity,  generously 
declined  to  prosecute,  and  the  prisoner  was  accordingly 
released. 

Several  writers  have  stated  that,  in  the  early  days 
of  the  Revolution,  Sophie's  salon  became  a  political  club 
and  that  she  herself  was  an  enthusiastic  advocate  of 
republican  doctrines.  "  There  are  beings,"  wrote  Champ- 
cenetz,  in  the  course  of  a  brutal  attack  on  the  ex-singer 
which  he  published  in  the  royalist  organ.  La  Chronique 
scandaleuse,  "  who  would  not  die  content  unless  they 
had  degraded  themselves  in  every  conceivable  way.  Of 
this  the  aged  Sophie  Arnould  is  an  example.  After 
delivering  herself  for  forty  years  to  every  scoundrel  of 
bad  taste,  she  has  now  turned  demagogue,  that  she  may 
receive  at  her  house  the  dregs  of  the  human  race.  She 
has  sent  to  study  at  the  Jacobins  the  two  children,  with 
whom  a  man  of  gallantry  once  presented  her,  through 
inadvertence."  ^ 

That  Sophie,  in  common  with  her  old  lover  Laura- 
guais  and  others  of  her  aristocratic  and  literary  friends, 
sympathised  to  a  certain  extent  with  the  Revolution — 
that  is  to  say,  with  the  Revolution  in  its  earlier  phases 
— is  probable  enough.  That,  crippled  as  she  was  with 
debts,  she  kept  open  house  for  all  the  turbulent  spirits  of 
her  time,  or  carried  her  partisanship  so  far  as  to  endeavour 

'  La  Chroniqiu  sciuulaleuse.  No.  29,  cited  by  E.  and  J.   de   Goncourt, 
Sophie  Arnould,  p.  149. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  87 

to  influence  the  opinions  of  her  sons,  who  were  quite  old 
enough  to  form  them  without  any  assistance  from  their 
mother,  as  Champcenetz — an  old  enemy,  by  the  way,  of 
both  Sophie  and  Lauraguais — asserts,  we  beg  leave  to 
doubt.  Any  way,  her  enthusiasm  for  the  new  order  of 
things  must  have  been  very  short-lived,  for,  in  1789,  her 
pension  of  4000  livres  was  reduced  to  2000,  and  from 
1793  not  paid  at  all,  but,  according  to  an  entry  in  the 
Archives,  "  left  owing." 

In  1790,  Sophie  sold  her  house  at  Clichy-la-Garenne 
and  purchased,  *'  for  a  mere  song,"  an  old  disused  priory 
at  Luzarches.  Her  new  residence  she  christened  Le 
Paraclet,  though  whether  she  derived  much  comfort  from 
the  house  itself  is  open  to  question,  as  it  was  in  the  last 
stage  of  dilapidation,  and  she  had  no  money  to  spare  for 
even  the  most  urgent  repairs.  In  an  amusing  letter, 
written  in  1794  to  Belanger,  she  describes  it  as  "  only  the 
carcase  of  a  house,  which  waits  for  doors  and  windows 
until  it  shall  please  God  to  send  me  the  means,"  and 
adds  that  she  is  "  camping  provisionally  in  the  dovecot 
of  the  ancient  monks." 

Her  surroundings,  however,  appear  to  have  afforded 
her  some  compensation  for  the  ruinous  condition  of 
the  building.  "  I  have  a  beautiful  park,  containing  all 
that  it  is  possible  to  desire  whether  for  ornament  or  use  ; 
superb  kitchen-garden  ;  a  vineyard,  which  has  yielded 
me  this  year  six  hogsheads  of  wine  ;  a  forest,  a  wood,  an 
orchard,  a  pond  well  stocked  with  fish,  fresh  air, 
beautiful  scenery,  good  land.  This  is  the  fourth  year 
that  I  have  been  here,  and  I  remain  in  the  greatest 
solitude.  But  well  !  I  have  not  felt  one  moment's 
ennui  since  I  came." 

While  at  Luzarches,   Sophie    received  a  domiciliary 


88    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

visit  from  the  local  revolutionary  committee.  She 
received  them  with  a  smiling  face,  though  she  must 
have  been  quaking  with  fear,  since  her  intimacy  with  the 
Prince  de  Conde  and  other  distinguished  emigres  was 
sufficient  to  have  sent  her  to  the  guillotine  a  dozen  times 
over. 

"  I  have  always  been  a  very  active  citizen,"  said  she  ; 
"  I  know  the  Rights  of  Man  by  heart  "  (a  remark  which 
was  certainly  true),  "  and  I  have  sung  twenty  years  at 
the  Opera-National  for  the  pleasure  of  the  Sovereign 
People." 

The  committee,  however,  were  not  satisfied  with 
these  assurances  and  insisted  on  ransacking  the  house, 
in  quest  of  compromising  correspondence  and  so  forth. 
Presently  they  came  across  a  bust  of  Gluck  and  paused 
before  it. 

"  It  is  Marat,"  said  Sophie,  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest 
veneration. 

The  worthy  sans-culottes  uncovered,  and  convinced 
that  they  had  just  been  contemplating  the  august 
features  of  the  father  of  the  people,  whose  sanguinary 
career  the  knife  of  Charlotte  Corday  had  recently  brought 
to  an  abrupt  termination,  retired,  with  many  apologies 
for  having  doubted  the  patriotism  of  the  Citoyenne 
Arnould.^ 

Sophie  remained  at  Luzarches  for  seven  years,  "  tout 

a    fait    en    -paysanne?"*     She    wore    sabots^    she    planted 

cabbages,  she  gathered  peas  and  apples,  and  she  reared, 

1  According  to  another  account,  to  which  the  Goncourts  and  Mr.  R.  B. 
Douglas  both  give  credence,  it  was  a  bust  of  Sophie  herself,  by  Houdon, 
representing  her  as  Iphigenia ;  and  the  agents  of  the  revolutionary  committee 
"  mistook  a  sky-blue  band  on  which  was  painted  a  quarter-moon  and  two 
stars  for  the  scarf  of  Marat."  But  is  not  this  making  rather  a  severe  call 
upon  our  credulity  ? 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  89 

or  tried  to  rear,  poultry.  Her  daughter  Alexandrine 
lived  with  her  for  a  couple  of  years,  and  then  took  advan- 
tage of  the  new  law  of  divorce  to  get  rid  of  the  estimable 
Murvillc  and  replace  him  by  the  son  of  the  local  post- 
master, "a  stout  boy, who  was  quite  unsuitable  for  her." 
Sophie,  though,  as  we  have  seen,  by  no  means  strait- 
laced  herself,  strongly  disapproved  of  her  daughter's 
conduct,  and  made  it  the  occasion  of  one  of  her  most 
celebrated  bons  mots.  "  Divorce,"  she  gravely  observed, 
"  is  the  sacrament  of  adultery." 

All  this  time  the  unfortunate  woman  was  gradually 
becoming  poorer  and  poorer.  Her  pension  had  been 
discontinued  ;  the  greater  part  of  what  money  she  had 
possessed  apart  from  that  seems  to  have  been  swallowed 
up,  with  so  many  other  fortunes,  in  the  financial  chaos 
which  accompanied  the  political  one  ;  while  to  apply 
to  her  friends  for  help  was  no  longer  of  any  avail.  Not 
a  few  of  them,  among  whom  was  the  Prince  d'Henin, 
had  departed  to  another  world,  by  way  of  the  Place  de 
la  Revolution  ;  others,  like  Lauraguais,  were  in  exile ; 
those  who  were  still  within  reach  of  her  appeals  were 
ruined.  Of  all  her  old  friends  and  admirers  the  only  one 
to  whom  she  could  turn  was  Belanger,  and  it  was  but 
little  that  he  could  do  to  assist  his  once-adored  Sophie. 
He  himself  had  been  imprisoned  and  had  narrowly  escaped 
the  guillotine,  and  when  he  was  released,  to  find  that 
everything  portable  belonging  to  him  had  been  carried 
off  by  a  faithless  servant,  he  was  thrust,  bon  gre  mal 
gre,  into  a  miserably-paid  municipal  office,  which  kept 
him  hard  at  work  from  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  until 
nearly  midnight,  and  left  him  no  time  for  practising 
his  profession.  Moreover,  he  was  now  married,  having, 
while  in  prison,  espoused  a  companion  in  misfortune, 


90    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Mile.  Dervieux,  of  the  Opera,  who  had  been  a  notorious 
courtesan,  and,  consequently,  had  no  money  to  spare 
for  old  friends  in  distress. 

Nevertheless,  the  kind-hearted  architect  did  all  that 
was  in  his  power.  He  wrote  to  Sophie  ;  he  went  to 
visit  her  ;  he  entertained  her  at  his  house,  and  acted  as 
her  intermediary  with  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  in 
order  to  secure  the  restitution  of  the  pension  to  which 
she  was  entitled.  And  Sophie,  on  her  side,  makes  him 
the  confidant  of  all  her  hopes  and  disappointments, 
and  writes  him  long,  affectionate  letters,  beginning : 
"  Mon  hel  ange^''  and  one  of  them  superscribed,  "  A 
mon  meiileur  amiP 

Once,  learning  that  she  was  in  sore  distress,  Belanger 
sent  her  a  double  louis — probably  all  that  the  poor  man 
could  afford — which  the  grateful  Sophie  acknowledges 
in  the  following  letter  : 

"  8  Nivose,  Tear  viii,  {January  29,  1800). 

"  Ah,  mon  bel  ange,  my  friend,  you  are  always  the  same 
for  goodness  and  generosity.  What  a  good  heart  is 
yours  !  I  would  thank  you  sincerely,  my  poor  friend, 
but  what  expressions  can  I  employ  ?  .  .  .  They  would 
always  fall  short  of  my  gratitude,  not  for  the  money, 
but  for  the  action.  Ah  !  what  good  you  have  done  my 
heart  !  Here  are  a  hundred  years  of  happiness  for  me, 
if  I  had  them  to  live.  Console  yourself,  my  friend  ;  I 
have  still  a  few  sous,  and  have  no  need  of  the  two  louis 
that  you  sent  me,  and  of  which  you  have  deprived 
yourself  for  me  ;  for  I  also  know  what  your  position  is. 
But  I  will  keep  this  piece  to  wear  upon  my  heart,  and  it 
shall  not  leave  me  until  my  death.  I  know  the  motto 
I  shall  put  there  ;  it  shall  be  my  relic.  Good-bye, 
mon  bel  ange^  my  good  angel,  my  true  friend.     Believe 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  91 

mc  there  does  not  exist  on  earth  a  being  who  is  more 

tenderly  attached  to  you,  and  more  inviolably  attached 

to  you,  than  your 

"  Sophie  Arnould. 

"  On  the  24th,  I  shall  be  with  my  good  friends,  with 
you  and  your  wife,  and  shall  devote  that  day  to  my 
happiness." 

In  another  letter,  written  eleven  months  later,  we 
find  her  rejoicing  over  the  victory  of  Hohenlinden,  in 
which  "  her  son  in  the  army,  her  hussar,  had  well  avenged 
them  with  the  army  of  the  Rhine  against  the  Austrians." 
She  has  received  details  of  the  engagement  from  Constant 
himself,  who  sends  many  affectionate  messages  to  his 
"  good  and  tender  mother "  and  the  Belangers,  and 
desires  to  be  remembered  to  "  the  amiable  ladies  of  their 
circle."  The  hastily-scribbled  notes  of  the  hussar,  who 
seems  to  have  been  both  a  good  son  and  a  brave  and 
capable  officer — he  rose,  as  we  have  mentioned  elsewhere, 
to  the  rank  of  colonel  and  fell  atWagram — seem  to  have 
been  one  of  the  chief  consolations  of  poor  Sophie's  life. 

When  the  first  of  the  above  letters  was  written, 
Sophie  had  been  living  for  some  years  in  Paris.  She  had 
returned  to  the  capital  in  1797,  and  had  at  first  taken 
lodgings  over  a  barber's  shop  in  the  Rue  du  Petit-Lion, 
from  which,  however,  she  had  removed,  a  few  months 
later,  to  an  apartment  in  the  Hotel  d'Angivilliers.  She 
still  retained  possession  of  the  old  priory  at  Luzarches, 
and  appears  to  have  occasionally  visited  it. 

From  the  Hotel  d'Angivilliers,  we  find  her  writing 
to  Lauraguais,  who,  though  he  had  contrived  to  save 
his  head,^  was  now  almost  as  poor  as  she  herself  was,  and 

'  According  to  Castil-Blaze,  during  the  Reign  of   Terror,  Lauraguais 
disguised  himself  as  a  coachman  and  drove  a  fiacre. 


92    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

was  living  on  a  small  farm  which  he  had  bought  or  rented 
at  Manicamp,  in  the  department  of  the  Aisne.  He  had 
invited  her  to  share  his  retreat,  but  Sophie  felt  obliged 
to  decline  the  offer.  She  had  succeeded,  not  without 
great  difficulty,  in  obtaining  from  Francois  de  Neuf- 
chateau,  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  a  pension  of  200 
livres  a  month,  and,  as  pensions  were  paid  very  grudgingly, 
she  feared  that  her  leaving  Paris  might  serve  as  an  excuse 
for  discontinuing  it.  Unable  to  join  Lauraguais  in  the 
country,  she  now  invites  him  to  come  and  live  with  her, 
"  as  to  end  her  days  near  him,  to  render  him  all  the 
attentions  of  friendship,  of  the  most  tender,  the  most 
constant  attachment,  is  the  desire  of  her  heart  and  will 
crown  her  happiness."  "  One  must  have  money,  you 
will  say,"  she  continues,  after  pointing  out  that  Paris 
will  be  the  safest  place  for  him  to  be  in,  in  the  coming 
renewal  of  the  faction  strife,  which  she  believes  to  be  close 
at  hand.  "  But  you  have  a  little^  and  I  have  a  little  also. 
We  shall  not  have  any  great  expenses  to  meet.  No  rent 
to  pay ;  we  must  breakfast  at  home  ;  for  dinner  we  can 
visit  our  friends  ;  we  will  be  moderate  at  their  houses 
and  very  moderate  at  our  own.  I  have  also  some  wood 
at  Le  Paraclet,  a  portion  of  which  I  will  have  brought 
here.  ...  As  to  our  means  of  living;  well,  my  Dorval, 
we  must  help  one  another.  We  will  take  for  our  models 
Baucis  and  Philemon.  Dorval  will  write  the  great  ad- 
ventures of  the  Revolution;  I  will  transmit  to  posterity 
those  of  our  youth.  That  is  already  a  long  time  ago, 
but  one  never  forgets  what  has  moved  one  deeply.  The 
heart  alone,  my  Dorval,  has  imperishable  recollections. 
...  I  shall  prepare  for  you  all  that  I  can  procure  for 
your  needs  and  comfort.  You  shall  have  a  fine  room, 
very  large  and  airy  and   in  a  good   position,  where  you 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  93 

will  be  alone  and  free,  with  a  staircase  and  door  to  your- 
self, a  good  bed,  chairs  and  commodes  to  match,  a  big 
table  for  your  papers,  writing  materials,  &c.  Finally, 
I  hope  you  will  not  be  uncomfortable.  As  for  other 
matters,  I  have  all  that  is  required.  To  assist  me,  I 
keep  one  servant,  a  woman  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
unmarried,  and  not  too  intelligent,  but  who  works  well 
and  is  a  great  help  to  me.  The  intelligent  ones  are  only 
intrigantes^  &c.  We  must  avoid  all  that,  and  for  good 
reasons.  But  do  not,  my  friend,  be  uneasy  about  your- 
self ;  I  shall  always  be  at  your  service,  and  shall  always 
say  : 

"  '  Ah  !  qu'on  est  heureux  de  d(5chausser  ce  qu'on  aime  !  * 

"  Adieu.  I  will  let  you  know  when  the  lodging  will 
be  ready.  That  will  not  be  long  ;  and  do  not  send  any 
excuses  for  not  coming.     Adieu." 

Lauraguais  did  not  see  his  way  to  accept  this  invita- 
tion, but  he  appears  to  have  been  residing  in  Paris,  for 
some  time  at  least,  during  the  last  year  or  two  of  Sophie's 
life,  and  to  have  done  what  little  he  could  to  assist  her. 

The  poverty  in  which  poor  Sophie  spent  the  last  years 
of  her  life  was  in  a  great  measure  the  result  of  her  own 
goodness  of  heart.  Soon  after  she  removed  from  Luz- 
arches  to  Paris,  her  daughter  Alexandrine  died,  leaving 
behind  her  three  children  totally  unprovided  for.  The 
ex-singer  heroically  undertook  the  charge  of  her  grand- 
children, although  she  must  have  been  aware  that  the 
cost  of  their  maintenance  would  leave  her  with  hardly 
sufficient  to  procure  the  barest  necessaries.  Still,  by 
the  aid  of  the  most  rigid  economy,  she  contrived  to 
support  both  herself  and  them  until  the  summer  of  1799, 
when  Francois  de  Neufchateau  resigned  office,  and  the 
pension   he  had  accorded  her   was  discontinued.     The 


94    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

unfortunate  woman  was  now  almost  penniless — it  was 
at  this  time  that  Belanger  sent  her  the  double  louis 
which  called  forth  the  letter  of  thanks  we  have  already- 
cited.  Nevertheless,  even  when  face  to  face  with  starva- 
tion, her  wit  did  not  desert  her,  as  will  be  seen  by 
the  following  letter,  which  she  addressed  to  Lucien 
Bonaparte,  the  new  Minister  of  the  Interior  : 

Paris,  i   Pluviose,  Tear  viii.  {January  21,  1801). 
"  Citizen  Minister, — I  am  called  Sophie  Arnould  ; 
a  name  perhaps  quite  unknown  to  you,  but  formerly 
very  familiar  to  the  Theatre  of  the  Gods. 

*  Je  chantais,  ne  vous  d6plaise.' 

.  .  .  Since  my  earliest  years,  and  without  any  other  destiny 
than  the  chance  which  governs  so  many  things,  twenty 
years  of  my  life  have  been  consecrated  to  the  Theatre 
des  Arts,^  where  some  natural  talents,  a  careful  education, 
and  the  most  artistic  teaching  were  supported  by  the 
counsels  of  men  of  taste,  scholars,  artists,  in  a  word,  of 
persons  justly  celebrated.  As  for  myself,  I  had  then  to 
recommend  me,  a  suitable  physique,  an  abundant  youth, 
vivacity,  soul,  a  bad  head,  and  a  good  heart.  These 
were  the  auspices  under  which  I  was  fortunate  enough 
to  make  my  life  illustrious,  and  to  gain,  together  with 
a  sort  of  celebrity,  glory,  fortune,  and  many  friends. 
Alas  !  now  Chance  has  turned  against  me.  As  for 
celebrity,  my  name  is  still  cited  with  some  praise  in  asso- 
ciation with  those  of  Psyche,  Thelaire,  Iphigenie,  Egle, 
Pomone,  in  a  word,  at  the  Theatre  des  Arts.  As  for  the 
friends,  I  can  only  say  that  I  so  well  deserved  them  that 
I  have  only  lost  those  whom  death  has  taken  from  me, 
and  those  of  whom  the  decemviral  axe  has  deprived  me. 

*  The  official  Republican  name  for  the  Opera. 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  95 

There  is  thus  only  inconstant  Fortune  which,  without 
rhyme  or  reason,  has  given  me  the  slip  .  .  .  and  in 
what  circumstances  too  !  .  .  .  When  I  am  too  old  for 
Love  and  too  young  for  Death.  You  see  then.  Citizen 
Minister,  how  cruel  it  is,  after  so  much  happiness,  to 
find  oneself  reduced  to  so  miserable  a  state,  and,  after 
having  kindled  so  many  fires,  to  be  to-day  without  even 
a  log  to  burn  on  my  own  hearth  !  For  the  fact  is  that, 
since  the  nation  has  placed  me  on  its  Pension  List,  I  have 
nowhere  to  sleep  and  nothing  to  live  on.  I  assuredly 
do  not  ask  for  riches,  but  only  for  enough  to  enable  me 
to  finish  my  life  and  to  avoid  an  unhappy  old  age.  I  have 
heavy  expenses,  because,  in  my  fortunate  days,  I  was  the 
support  of  the  unfortunate  members  of  my  family. 
That  had  to  be,  but  my  poverty  does  not  make  them 
rich.  Finally,  Citizen  Minister,  I  beg  you  to  come  to  my 
assistance  and  to  continue  those  benefits  which  my  friend, 
Francois  de  Neufchateau,  when  he  became  Minister, 
procured  for  me.     I  owe  this  testimony  to  his  heart.  .  .  . 

"  Sophie  Arnould." 

Lucien  Bonaparte's  reply  to  this  letter  was  to  promise 
Sophie  a  free  benefit  at  the  Opera.  He  subsequently, 
however,  withdrew  this  permission,  at  the  same  time 
announcing  his  intention  to  make  her,  by  way  of  com- 
pensation, a  grant  of  6000  francs.  But,  in  the  then 
depleted  state  of  the  Treasury,  many  months  frequently 
intervened  between  a  promise  and  its  performance  ;  and 
the  poor  woman  could  only  obtain  a  portion  of  the  money. 
Her  condition  was  now  pitiable,  since  not  only  was  she 
living  in  extreme  poverty,  but  her  health  was  failing 
rapidly.  An  accident  which  she  had  met  with  some 
time  before  had  induced  a  malignant  growth  which  defied 


96    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

medical  treatment,  and  occasioned  her  terrible  suffer- 
ing. In  her  distress,  she  begged  Belanger  to  write 
to  the  Minister,  and  the  architect  addressed  to  Lucien 
Bonaparte  the  following  pathetic  letter  : 

II  Messidor,  Tear  x.  {June  30,  1802). 
"  Citizen  Minister, — I  address  this  letter  to  you 
alone.  It  is  written  from  the  bedside  of  the  celebrated 
Arnould,  who  is  now  on  the  point  of  death.  [She  did 
not  die  until  four  months  later.]  This  woman  is  dying 
in  want  of  the  necessaries  which  her  state  of  distress  does 
not  permit  her  to  procure.  You  accorded  her  a  benefit 
performance  at  the  Theatre  des  Arts,  for  which  some 
obliging  persons  offered  her  12,000  francs.  You  subse- 
quently desired  that  this  permission  should  be  withdrawn 
and,  in  exchange,  offered  her  6000  francs.  She  has  only 
received  4000.  The  2000  which  are  still  due  would  be 
of  the  greatest  service  to  her  ;  but  to  whom  am  I  to 
address  myself  to  obtain  the  fulfilment  of  your  promise  ? 
The  treasurer  of  the  Theatre  des  Arts  declares  that  he 
must  have  a  special  order  from  you,  and  that,  without 
such  order,  he  can  hand  over  nothing.  And  this  unhappy 
woman,  of  whom  Gluck  said  :  '  Without  the  charm  of 
the  voice  and  elocution  of  Mile.  Arnould,  my  Iphigenie 
would  never  have  been  accepted  in  France  ' — this  un- 
fortunate woman  finds  herself  to-day  deprived  even  of 
the  means  of  prolonging  her  life,  for  want  of  assistance  ! 
What  would  the  Moncrifs,  the  Rousseaus,  the  d'Alem- 
berts,  the  Diderots,  Helvetius,  the  Baron  d'Holbach, 
and  all  those  celebrated  men  who  so  courted  her  society 
(as  you  may  find  in  their  correspondence)  have  said  to 
this  ?  What  would  Voltaire  himself  have  said  ?  he 
who,    at    the    age    of   eighty-four,    had    himself   carried 


SOPHIE  ARNOULD  97 

to    her    house,    and    inscribed     these     verses    on     her 

bust  : 

"  'Ses  graces,  ses  talents  ont  illustre  son  nom  ; 
Elle  a  su  tout  charmer,  jusqu'a  la  jalousie. 
Alcibiade  en  elle  eut  cru  voir  Aspasie, 
Maurice,  Lecouvreur,  et  Gourville,  Ninon.' 

"  This  woman,  now  so  utterly  forsaken,  was  once 
surrounded  by  men  of  learning.  She  lived  to  help  the 
unfortunate  ;  she  lived  to  leave  models  and  pupils  to 
the  stage,  which  she  adorned  and  even  created.  Eminent 
men  have  immortalised  her  talents  and  her  wit ;  and 
yet  this  woman  is  dying  for  want  of  means  to  procure 
remedies  for  the  cruel  sufferings  which  she  is  enduring."  ^ 

It  is  believed  that  this  letter  was  the  means  of  shaming 
the  Minister  into  paying  the  remainder  of  the  sum  due. 
Let  us  hope  that  such  was  the  case,  and  that  the  money 
was  able  to  procure  poor  Sophie  some  relief  in  her  last 
hours.  She  died  on  Vendemiaire  30,  Year  xi.  (October 
22,  1802),  having  previously  received  the  last  Sacraments 
from  the  hands  of  the  cure  of  Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois. 

She  was  buried  the  following  day  ;  in  what  cemetery 
is  uncertain.  The  Goncourts  think  it  must  have  been 
at  Montmartre,  because  all  persons  at  this  period  who 
died  in  the  i"  Arrondissement  were  interred  there. 
But,  as  Mr.  Douglas  suggests,  it  is  quite  likely  that 
Belanger  or  Lauraguais  might  have  caused  her  to  be 
buried  elsewhere. 

1  Cited  by  E.  and  J.  de  Goncourt,  Sophie  Arnould,  p.  302. 


II 

MADEMOISELLE    GUIMARD 


II 

MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD 

According  to  a  report  of  a  police-inspector  named 
Marais,  published  for  the  first  time  in  the  Revue 
retrospective  (vol.  viii.),  the  real  name  of  this  famous 
danseuse  was  Alarie  Morel,  and  she  was  the  natural 
daughter  of  a  Jew  named  Bernard,  who  died  at  the 
Ch^telet,  where  he  had  been  imprisoned  for  debt,  and 
a  girl  named  Morel,  of  good  bourgeois  family.  There  is 
no  truth  in  this  report,  however,  save  so  far  as  the  ille- 
gitimacy of  the  lady  is  concerned,  as,  from  the  registers 
of  the  parish  of  Bonne-Nouvelle  de  Paris,  it  appears  that 
she  was  the  daughter  of  one  Fabien  Guimard,  inspector 
of  the  cloth  manufactories  at  Voiron,  in  Dauphine,  and 
of  Marie  Anne  Bernard,  and  that  she  was  born  in  the 
Rue  de  Bourbon-Villeneuve,  December  27,  I743.-'^  The 
acte  de  naissance  describes  Marie  Anne  Bernard  as  the 
wife  of  Fabien  Guimard,  but,  though  she  called  herself 
by  the  name  of  the  father  of  her  child,  they  were,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  never  married,  as  M.  Campardon  dis- 
covered in  the  Archives  Nationales  a  deed  legitimating 
the  danseuse^  bearing  date  December  1765,  without  doubt 
consented  to  by  Guimard,  in  order  to  secure  his  daughter's 
succession  to  his  property.^ 

In  this  deed,  the  demoiselle  Marie  Madeleine  Guimard, 

*  Campardon,  Academic  royale  de  Musique  au   XVIII'    sihle :  Article, 
"Guimara."  ■    Ubtd. 


102  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

making  profession  of  the  Catholic,  Apostolic,  and  Roman 
religion,  declares  that  she  was  born  of  the  illegitimate 
connection  which  formerly  existed  between  the  sieur 
Fabien  Guimard,  inspector  of  the  cloth  manufactories 
at  Voiron,  and  the  deceased  Anne  Bernard,  her  father 
and  mother  being  both  then  free  and  unmarried  ;  but 
that,  in  the  misfortune  of  her  birth,  she  has  had  the 
good  fortune  to  be  educated  with  great  care,  and  that 
her  father  being  desirous  of  continuing  the  marks  of 
tenderness  and  personal  aflfection  that  he  has  always 
manifested  for  her,  and  wishing  to  assure  her  his  property, 
has  consented,  in  conjunction  with  his  brother,  priest 
and  canon  of  the  diocese  of  Orleans,  to  accord  to  her 
letters  of  legitimation,  for  the  purpose  of  effacing  the 
stain  of  her  birth  and  giving  her  the  enjoyment  of  the 
privileges  and  advantages  of  legitimate  children. 

And  Louis  XV.,  by  his  special  grace,  full  power, 
and  authority,  legitimates  the  said  demoiselle  Guimard, 
and,  in  the  impressive  language  of  the  ancient  monarchy, 
declares  that  it  is  his  royal  will  and  pleasure  that  she  shall 
bear  the  name  of  Marie  Madeleine  Guimard,  that  she  shall 
be  held,  considered,  and  reputed,  as  he  holds  her,  legiti- 
mate, that  she  shall  never  be  reproached  with  her  birth 
and  that  she  shall  enjoy,  in  the  said  quality,  the  same  hon- 
ours, prerogatives,  rights,  privileges,  franchises,  and  advan- 
tages as  are  enjoyed  by  his  other  legitimate  subjects. 

In  the  above  declaration,  Madeleine  speaks  of  her 
good  fortune  in  being  educated  with  great  care,  and  of 
the  marks  of  tenderness  and  personal  affection  she  had 
received  from  her  father.  It  would  appear,  however, 
that  the  act  of  legitimation  was  a  tardy  act  of  reparation 
on  M.  Guimard's  part,  very  probably  dictated  by  the 
approach  of  death,   for  his  neglect  of  the  duties  of  a 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  103 

father,  since  no  trace  is  to  be  found  of  his  having  exercised 
any  supervision  over  his  daughter's  early  years ;  and  the 
girl's  education,  or  at  least  the  choregraphic  part  of  it, 
seems  to  have  been  undertaken  at  the  expense  of  a  M. 
d'Harnoncourt  and  the  President  de  Saint-Lubin,  two 
elderly  roues,  whose  practice  it  was  to  defray  the  educa- 
tion of  young  girls  who  happened  to  have  caught  their 
fancy,  with  a  view  to  making  them  their  mistresses  when 
they  should  have  reached  a  suitable  age. 

Whether  either  of  these  amiable  old  gentlemen 
received  anything  in  return  for  his  trouble  is  proble- 
matical, for  Madeleine  Guimard  was  ever  fastidious ; 
but,  according  to  that  highly  unedifying  work,  La  Police 
devoilee,  the  president  did  not  sigh  altogether  in  vain. 

In  those  days  there  was  a  corps  de  ballet  attached  to 
the  Comedie-Frangaise,  some  of  the  performances  of 
which,  notably  La  Mort  d'Orphee^  ou  les  Fetes  de  Bacchus 
(June  1759),  and  Vertumne  et  Pomone  (April  1760), 
enjoyed  a  vogue  comparable  to  the  most  successful 
ballets  of  the  Opera  itself  ;  and  it  was  in  this  corps  that 
Madeleine  Guimard,  in  virtue  of  the  double  protection 
of  M.  d'Harnoncourt  and  the  President  de  Saint-Lubin, 
made  her  first  appearance  on  the  stage  in  1758.  She 
was  then  in  her  sixteenth  year,  and  is  described,  in  the 
report  of  the  police-inspector  Marais  already  referred 
to,  as  "  bien  faite  et  deja  en  possession  de  la  jolie  gorge  du 
monde,d^u7ie  figure  assez  bien,  sans  etre  jolie  ;  Vceil  fripon, 
et  portee  au  plaisir.^^ 

Of  her  professional  career  at  the  national  theatre  we 
have,  unfortunately,  no  details ;  the  brilliant  talents 
which  made  her  so  celebrated  in  later  years  were  probably 
as  yet  undeveloped,  or,  at  any  rate,  she  was  afforded  no 


I04  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

opportunity  of  displaying  them.  On  the  other  hand, 
we  have  a  good  deal  of  information,  of  a  somewhat 
unedifying  nature,  in  regard  to  her  private  life.  Her 
mother  appears  to  have  exercised  over  the  young  coryphee 
a  commendable  vigilance  ;  nevertheless,  in  September 
1760,  the  girl  was  detected  in  an  amorous  correspondence 
with  a  dancer  of  the  Opera  named  Leger,  whom,  we  learn 
from  a  Plainte  rendue  -par  la  mere  de  Mile.  Guimard^ 
danseuse  a  la  Comedie-Frangaise,  contre  un  sieur  Leger^ 
qiCelle  accusait  de  vouloir  seduire  sa  fUle^  had  introduced 
himself  into  the  house,  under  the  pretext  of  giving  his 
inamorata  lessons  in  her  art. 

The  result  of  this  liaison^  if  we  are  to  believe  the 
scandal-loving  scribes  of  the  time,  was  a  child,  to  which 
the  danseuse  gave  birth  in  a  barn,  in  the  midst  of  winter, 
"  sans  feu  et  sans  linge."  ^  The  story  of  the  child  is  very 
probably  apocryphal ;  at  any  rate,  we  hear  nothing 
further  about  it,  though,  of  course,  it  may  have  died  in 
infancy.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Madeleine 
Guimard  did  live  for  a  time  with  Leger,  and  in  great 
poverty  too ;  for  some  years  later,  when  she  had  risen  to 
fame  and  opulence,  the  poet  Barthe,  in  his  Statuts  pour 
r  Opera,  alludes  to  the  episode  in  the  following 
verses  : 

"  Que  celles  qui,  pour  prix  de  leurs  heureux  travaux, 
Jouissent  k  vingt  ans  d'un  honnete  opulence, 

Ont  un  hotel  et  des  chevaux, 
Se  rappellent  parfois  leur  premiere  indigence 
Et  leur  petit  grenier  et  leur  lit  sans  rideaux. 

Leur  defendons,  en  consequence, 

De  regarder  avec  piti6 

Ceile  qui  s'en  retourne  k  pie  ; 

'  Arnoldiana, 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  105 

Pauvre  enfant  dont  I'innocence 
N'a  pas  encore  rdussi, 
Mais  qui,  grace  a  la  danse, 
Fera  son  chemin  aussi."  ' 

The  "  widow  "  Guimard — the  lady  gave  out  that 
she  was  a  widow,  to  account  for  the  non-appearance 
of  the  inspector  of  cloth  manufactories — was  not  nearly 
so  ferocious  a  guardian  of  her  daughter's  honour  when 
the  soupirant  did  not  happen  to  be  a  poor  devil  of  a 
dancer  ;  and  when,  not  long  afterwards,  the  wealthy 
financier,  M.  Bertin,  of  whose  unfortunate  connection 
with  Sophie  Arnould  we  have  spoken  in  our  study  of 
that  singer,  appeared  upon  the  scene  and  offered  to 
furnish,  for  Mile.  Madeleine's  accommodation,  a  hand- 
some apartment  near  the  Comedie-Frangaise,  the  fond 
mother  seems  to  have  regarded  his  advances  with  com- 
placency, if  not  with  a  warmer  feeling. 

In  1 761,  Mile.  Guimard  quitted  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise  and  accepted  an  engagement  at  the  Opera, 
to  double  Mile.  Allard,  at  the  very  modest  salary  of  600 
livres  a  year.  Here,  on  May  9,  1762,  she  made  her  first 
appearance,  in  the  part  of  Terpsichore,  in  the  prologue 
of  the  Fetes  Grecques  et  Romaines,  and  obtained  a  great 
success.  Her  nimbleness  and  her  grace,  though  at  that 
time  perhaps  a  little  affected,  gained  her  loud  applause, 
which  never  failed  her  during  the  twenty-seven  years 
of  her  theatrical  career. 

The  year  which  followed  her  debut.  Mile.  Guimard 
secured  a  genuine  success  at  a  performance  of  Castor 
et  Pollux  before  the  Court,  at  Fontainebleau.  "  This 
young  person,"  says  the  Mercure  de  France,  "  already 
known  and  applauded  on  the  Paris  stage,  has  given  before 

^  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  La  Guimard,  p.  1 8. 


io6  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  Court,  at  Fontainebleau,  agreeable  proofs  of  her 
progress,  and  particularly  in  the  ballets  of  this  opera, 
where  she  danced  several  pas  de  deux.^^ 

Every  year  Mile.  Guimard  continued  to  grow  in 
favour,  with  both  the  habitues  of  the  Opera  and  at  the 
Court.  As  Egle  in  Les  Fetes  d^Hebe,  ou  Les  Talents 
lyriques^  by  Aiondorge  and  Rameau,  as  Flore  in  Ndis^  as 
an  Amazon  in  Tancrede,  and  as  the  statue  in  Pygmalion^ 
she  was  received  with  ever-increasing  applause,  and 
after  her  appearance  in  the  last-named  part,  she  was 
generally  admitted  to  be  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
danseuses  who  had  ever  appeared  on  the  Paris  stage. 

The  dance  of  Mile.  Guimard  has  been  described  by 
Noverre  as  the  poetry  of  motion.  It  was  a  very  simple 
one,  consisting  merely  of  a  variety  of  little  steps,  but 
every  movement  was  characterised  by  such  exquisite  grace 
that  the  public  soon  came  to  prefer  her  to  any  other 
performer.  What,  however,  chiefly  distinguished  her  from 
her  colleagues  was  the  fact  that  to  her  talents  as  a  danseuse^ 
she  united  all  the  qualities  of  an  excellent  actress  ; 
her  countenance,  her  attitude,  her  gestures  all  spoke, 
and  her  dance  seemed  to  be  only  the  faithful  and  very 
animated  expression  of  the  sentiments  which  she  expe- 
rienced.^ But  let  us  cite  on  this  subject,  a  passage  from 
a  very  interesting  letter  written,  some  three  years  after 
her  death,  by  her  husband,  Jean  Etienne  Despreaux, 
to  a  friend,  who  had  asked  him  for  some  information 
about  his  wife  and  the  Opera  : 

"  There  are  three  kinds  of  grace  :  grace  of  form, 
grace  of  attitude,  and  grace  of  movement.  Grace  of 
form  is  the  gift  of  Nature  ;  it  is  rare.  That  of  attitude 
is  a  choice  of  positions  of  the  body,  which  good  taste 

'  Castil-Blazc,  Histoire  dc  V Acadimie  de  Musique,  i.  267. 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  107 

chooses  and  indicates.  That  of  movement  consists 
not  merely  in  passing  from  one  attitude  to  another,  in 
following  the  cadence  of  the  music,  but  it  requires  the 
expression  to  be  in  conformity  with  the  genre  that  it 
represents,  especially  in  the  danse  terre-a-terre,  which  is 
very  different  from  the  danse  sautee.  It  is  in  the  danse 
terre-a-terre  that  Mile.  Guimard  charmed,  for  more  than 
twenty-five  years,  a  critical  public,  in  the  gavottes  of 
Armide  and  in  two  hundred  other  dances.  She  was 
always  new  ;  I  do  not  speak  only  of  her  feet,  they  count 
for  little  in  comparison  with  the  charm  of  body  and  head. 
It  is  that  which  is  the  perfection  of  the  picture.  She 
played  perfectly  both  comedy  and  opera-comique.  Her 
expressive  face  depicted  easily  all  the  feelings  that  she 
experienced,  or  was  believed  to  experience.  That  was 
why  she  displayed  the  most  perfect  pantomime  in  Medee  et 
Jason^  in  the  ballet  of  Ninette,  in  Myrza,  and  in  many 
other  ballets.  She  was  always  perfect,  because  grace 
never  forsook  her. 

"  She  knew  how  to  distinguish  the  trivial  from  what 
was  really  comic,  and  joined  to  the  charm  of  grace  and  of 
harmony  of  movement  facial  expression. 

"...  She  did  not  approve  of  the  present  fashion 
of  raising  the  foot  as  high  as  the  hip.  These  exaggerated 
movements  dislocate  the  body,  and  are  the  enemies  of 
grace.  Attitudes  of  this  kind  have  no  other  effect  than 
to  astonish  the  farterre.^^  ■" 

Madeleine  Guimard  was  not  beautiful,  she  was  not 
even  pretty  ;  her  complexion  was  unpleasantly  sallow  ; 
her  thinness  so  extreme  as  to  earn  from  her  charitable 
colleagues  of  the  Opera  the  sobriquets  of  "  the  spider," 
"  the  skeleton  of  the  Graces,"  and  so  forth.     But  she 

'  Cited  by  Edmond  dc  Goncourt,  La  Guimard,  p.  304  note. 


io8  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

more  than  atoned  for  these  natural  disadvantages  by  an 
indescribable  charm  of  manner,  which  conquered  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  all  with  whom  she  came  in  contact. 
"  Love,"  says  one  of  her  biographers,  "  is  not  blind  for 
nothing,  and  Madeleine  Guimard  possessed  more  than 
any  other  woman  of  her  time  the  art  of  placing  a  bandage 
over  the  eyes  of  those  who  regarded  her." 

Her  triumphs  in  the  sphere  of  gallantry  rivalled  those 
which  she  obtained  upon  the  stage.  Not  one  among  her 
contemporaries  succeeded  in  achieving  a  similar  notoriety. 
Princes  of  the  Blood  and  dancers  of  the  Opera,  great 
noblemen  and  men  of  letters,  financiers,  painters,  and 
— O  temporal  O  mores  I — bishops,  nay,  even  an  arch- 
bishop !  ^ — none  could  resist  this  nameless  charm ;  all, 
in  turn,  were  at  her  feet. 

In  the  early  years  of  her  career  at  the  Opera,  the  reports 
of  the  inspectors  of  the  Lieutenants  of  Police  provide  us 
with  abundant  information  in  regard  to  the  amorous 
adventures  of  the  danseuse.  To  M.  Bertin,  who,  poor 
man  !  probably  bored  Mile.  Guimard  as  much  as  he 
had  Sophie  Arnould,  succeeded  M.  de  Boutourlin,  the 
Russian  Ambassador  to  the  Court  of  Spain,  who,  during 
a  visit  to  Paris,  lived  with  her  for  some  time,  but,  finally, 
had  the  bad  taste  to  leave  her  for  Mile.  Lafond  of  the 
Comedie-Italienne.  Mile.  Guimard,  however,  speedily 
turned  the  tables  upon  the  "  Italians,"  by  detaching  the 
Comte  de  Rochefort  from  Mile.  Collette  of  that  theatre, 
a  triumph  which  enriched  her  jewel-case  by  "  a  diamond 
collar  of  great  price,"  and  other  acquisitions.  In  the 
meanwhile — for  the  lady,  like  Mile.  Clairon,  was  quite 
capable  of  carrying  on  two  or  three  love-affairs  at  once — 
a  connection  of  a  more  durable  nature  had  been  formed 

'  The  Archbishop  of  Sens, 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  109 

between     the    danseuse    and     the     farmer-general    Jean 
Benjamin  de  la  Borde,  first  valet- de-chamhre  to  Louis  XV. 
Jean  Benjamin  de  la  Borde,  celebrated  by  those  two 
verses  of  his  friend  Voltaire, 

"  Avec  tous  les  talens  le  destin  I'a  fait  nattre 
II  fait  tous  les  plaisirs  de  la  soci^td," 

was  an  ideal  lover.  He  was  at  this  time  about  thirty- 
years  of  age,  an  accomplished  courtier,  a  musician  of 
some  little  talent,  and  possessed  of  considerable  literary 
gifts, ^  and  "  a  frank,  loyal,  modest,  generous,  and  kind- 
hearted  man." 

From  this  liaison,  in  April  1763,  was  born  a  daughter, 
baptized  as  the  child  of  a  father  and  mother  unknown, 
but  formally  acknowledged  by  her  parents  seven  years 
later.  In  May  1778,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  this 
daughter,  who  bore  her  mother's  baptismal  name  of 
Marie  Madeleine,  married  one  Claude  Drais,  a  gold- 
smith and  jeweller  of  the  Quai  des  Orf^vres.  The  girl  did 
not  go  to  her  husband  empty-handed,  for  the  marriage  con- 
tract, which  is  given  by  M,  Campardon,  in  his  V Academie 
Toyale  de  Musique  au  XV HI'  siecle,  makes  provision  for 

'  He  was  the  author  of  Pensees  et  Maximes,  published  some  years  after 
his  death,  a  work  in  the  style  of  La  Rochefoucauld,  which  reveals  him  as  a 
keen  observer  of  life  and  particularly  of  woman.  Here  are  some  of  his 
reflections  : 

"  Vouloir  qu'on  soit  amoureux  avec  raison,  c'est  vouloir  qu'on  soit  fou  avec 


raison." 


"  Une  femme  qui  sait  mal  est  moins  supportable  qu'une  femme  qui  ne 
sait  rien." 

"  Le  plaislr  est  comme  une  fleur,  dont  I'odeur  est  delicate,  et  qu'il  faut 
entir  legerement,  si  on  veut  toujours  lui  trouver  le  meme  parfum." 

"  La  plupart  des  femmes  ressemblent  a  des  enigmes  qui  cessent  de  plaire, 
d^s  qu'elles  sont  devinees. 

"  Qui  aime  est  bien  plus  heureux  que  d'etre  ainie. 

"  On  combat  I'amour  par  la  fuite  et  la  colore  par  le  silence." 


no  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

a  dowry  of  125,000  livres ;  "  100,000  livres  in  cash, 
which  the  demoiselle  Guimard  engages  to  pay  in  ecus 
of  six  livres,  within  the  space  of  two  years,"  and  25,000 
livres,  composed  of  a  trousseau,  furniture,  diamonds, 
jewellery,  clothes,  linen,  and  lace.  The  marriage  was 
a  sad  one,  as  the  young  bride  died  a  year  later,  to  the 
great  distress  of  her  mother,  who  was  so  prostrated  by 
grief  that  it  was  some  months  before  she  was  able  to 
appear  again  upon  the  stage. 

One  might  have  supposed  that  the  possession  of  a 
lover  like  M.  de  la  Borde,  who,  in  addition  to  his  many 
amiable  qualities,  was  a  wealthy  man,  would  have  satisfied 
Mile.  Guimard.  Such,  however,  was  not  the  case,  as, 
in  1768,  we  find  her  the  mistress — or  rather  one  of  the 
mistresses — of  the  Marechal  Prince  de  Soubise,  whom 
the  favour  of  Madame  de  Pompadour  promoted  to  the 
command  of  the  French  troops  so  disastrously  defeated 
in  the  Battle  of  Rossbach. 

The  seraglio  of  the  Prince  de  Soubise  rivalled  that  of 
the  Prince  de  Conti ;  but,  whereas  the  latter's  included 
ladies  of  every  station  in  life,  that  of  the  former  seems 
to  have  been  mainly  recruited  from  the  Opera,  and  the 
pensions  paid  by  him  to  danseuses  who  had  ceased  to 
find  favour  in  his  eyes  must  alone  have  represented  a 
considerable  fortune. 

The  prince  was  generosity  itself.  He  made  Mile. 
Guimard  a  monthly  allowance  of  2000  ecus,  surrounded 
her  with  every  luxury  that  the  heart  of  woman  could 
desire,  and  loaded  her  with  costly  gifts.  The  faithful 
La  Borde,  who,  though  no  longer  the  lady's  official 
protector,  was  graciously  permitted  to  remain  her  amant 
de  coeuTy  continued  to  contribute  in  a  rather  more  modest 
manner  to  the  expenses  of  his  beloved,  and  the  toilettes, 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  in 

and  equipages,  and  diamonds,  of  Mile.  Guimard  surpassed 
even  those  of  Mile.  Deschamps,  whose  magnificence 
had  up  to  that  time  never  been  approached. 

At  the  fashionable  drive  to  Longchamps,  on  the 
Wednesday,  Thursday,  and  Friday  of  Holy  Week  1768, 
a  function  always  much  patronised  by  the  "  haute 
impure  "  of  the  capital,  the  equipage  of  Mile.  Guimard 
was  the  centre  of  attraction.  "  The  Princes  and  Grandees 
of  the  realm,"  say  the  omniscient  Bachaumont,  "were 
present  in  the  most  imposing  and  magnificent  equipages, 
and  the  courtesans  were  conspicuous,  as  they  usually  are. 
But  Mile.  Guimard,  '  la  belle  damnee^  as  M.  Marmontel 
calls  her,  drew  upon  her  the  attention  of  all  by  a  chariot 
of  exquisite  elegance,  very  worthy  to  contain  the  Graces 
and  the  modern  Terpsichore.  What  has  particularly 
engaged  the  attention  of  the  public  are  the  significant 
Arms  that  this  celebrated  courtesan  has  adopted.  In 
the  midst  of  the  shield  one  sees  a  mark  of  gold,  from 
which  springs  a  mistletoe.  The  Graces  serve  as  sup- 
porters, and  Cupids  crown  the  design.  The  whole 
emblem  is  most  ingenious."  ^ 

Every  week  Mile.  Guimard  gave  three  supper-parties. 
To  the  first  came  the  most  distinguished  noblemen  of 
the  Court  and  other  persons  of  consideration  ;  the  second 
was  a  reunion  of  authors,  artists,  and  savants,  a  company 
not  unworthy  of  comparison  with  that  which  assembled 
in  the  salon  of  Madame  Geoffrin  ;  while  the  third,  says 
Bachaumont,  "  was  a  veritable  orgy,  to  which  were  in- 
vited the  most  abandoned  courtesans,  and  where  luxury 
and  debauchery  were  carried  to  their  furthest  limits." 

But  what  were  these  suppers  compared  with  the 
entertainments  which  the  danseuse  gave  at  her  superb 

*  Mimoires  secrets,  iii.  383. 


112    LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

country-house  at  Pantin,  in  which  she  had  constructed 
a  charming  miniature  theatre,  built  in  the  form  of  two 
demi-ellipses  ?  The  salU  was  157  ft.  9  in.  in  length, 
and  21  ft.  8  in.  in  breadth,  while  the  distance  from  the 
bottom  of  the  orchestra  to  the  ceiling  was  22  ft.  It  had 
seating  accommodation  for  two  hundred  and  thirty-four 
spectators,  exclusive  of  the  accommodation  provided  by  the 
boxes,  of  which  there  were  six.  Several  of  these  boxes 
were  protected  by  grills,  in  order  that  exalted  personages 
might  enjoy  the  performances  without  being  recognised. 

Here,  in  1768,  was  performed  Colle's  Partie  de  Chasse 
de  Henri  IF.,  before  a  distinguished  company,  for 
all  aristocratic  Paris  disputed  for  invitations  to  Mile. 
Guimard's  entertainments,  and  people  spoke  of  "  going 
to  Pantin  "  as  they  spoke  of  going  to  Versailles. 

The  success  of  this  comedy  was  so  great  that  two  other 
performances  were  to  have  been  given  at  the  following 
Christmas ;  but  the  public  had  begun  to  murmur  at 
the  frequent  absences  of  the  best  actors  and  actresses 
of  the  capital,  and  the  representations  were  forbidden 
by  an  order  from  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber,  which 
prohibited  the  members  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise  and 
the  Comedie-Italienne  from  performing  anywhere,  save 
in  their  own  theatres. 

All  the  pieces  performed  at  Pantin  were  not  nearly 
so  unobjectionable  in  character  as  Colle's  charming 
comedy  ;  indeed  the  dialogue,  songs,  and  dances  of  the 
majority  of  them  were  exceedingly  free,  and  in  some 
cases  disgracefully  licentious  ^  ;  while  the  farewell  address 

'  The  titles  of  some  of  the  pieces  represented  speak  for  themselves : 

Junon  et  Ganymede,  comedie  irotique ;    La  Vierge  de  Babylone,  comedie 

irotique  ;    Cisar  et  les  deux  V estates,  -piece  erotique  en  iin  acte  ;   Hilo'ise  et 

Ahailard,  comedie  Antique  en  un  acte  ;    Ninon  et  Lachatre,  scene  erotique  ; 

Minette  et  F  inette,  on  les  Lfreuvcs  d'amoiir,  and  so  forth. 


MARIK  MADELEINE  GUIMARD 
Fioni  an  ens^ravingby  Gervais  after  the  painting  by  liouCHER 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  113 

pronounced  from  the  stage,  at  the  temporary  closing  of 
the  theatre  in  September  1770,  was  one  of  the  most 
outrageous  pieces  of  double  entendre  ever  uttered  in 
public.^ 

Mile.  Guimard's  house  at  Pantin  has  long  since 
disappeared  ;  even  its  site  is  a  matter  for  conjecture, 
and  no  contemporary  description  of  it  unfortunately 
exists.  Some  of  its  contents,  however,  have  come,  from 
time  to  time,  into  the  market,  from  which  we  know  that 
it  must  have  been  one  of  the  most  charmingly-appointed 
houses  of  the  time,  with  its  painted  wainscots,  its  marble 
floors,  its  fluted  pilasters,  and  its  exquisitely  decorated 
panels  ;  a  house  worthy  for  a  queen  to  inhabit  instead 
of  a  danseuse. 

The  generosity  of  the  Prince  de  Soubise  and  the 
devoted  La  Borde,  lavish  though  it  was,  failed  to  suffice 
Mile.  Guimard,  who,  to  meet  her  ever-increasing  ex- 
penditure, found  herself  reluctantly  compelled  to  asso- 
ciate with  them  a  third  lover. ^  This  time  she  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  Church  ;  M.  de  Jarente,  Bishop 
of  Orleans,  was  the  happy  man  ! 

It  was  a  prudent  choice  ;  M.  de  Jarente  held  the 
"  feuille  des  benefices^''''  which  meant  that  he  controlled 
the   greater  part   of  the   ecclesiastical   patronage   of   the 

^  It  was  composed  by  Armand,  concierge  of  the  H6tel  des  Com^diens, 
and  author  of  several  dramas,  at  the  instance  of  La  Borde,  who  had 
recommended  him  to  make  it  as  salacious  as  possible. 

'  Mile.  Guimard  had,  in  point  of  fact,  a  third  lover  already,  in  the  person 
of  the  dancer  Dauberval ;  but  he  was  a  negligible  quantity,  so  far  as  contribu- 
tions to  the  lady's  revenues  were  concerned.  A  satirical  print  of  the  time, 
entitled  Concnt  a  trois,  shows  us  the  ballerina  holding  a  roll  of  music  in  her 
hand  and  about  to  sing,  her  chief  protector,  the  Prince  de  Soubise,  playing 
the  violin,  the  sous-entreterieur,  La  Borde,  beating  time  with  the  conductor's 
biton,  and  Dauberval  playing  the  cornet. 

H 


114  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

realm.  How  he  had  discharged  that  important  trust 
previous  to  his  liaison  with  the  notorious  ballerina  we 
are  unable  to  say.  How  he  discharged  it  after  he  had 
succumbed  to  her  charms  is  but  too  well  known  :  the 
feuille  des  benefices  became  "  the  fief  of  the  Opera  "  ; 
the  ante-chamber  of  Mile.  Guimard  was  crowded  with 
ecclesiastics  soliciting  the  honour  of  an  audience,  and 
abbeys,  priories,  and  chapels  were  knocked  down  to  the 
highest  bidder.  And  the  danseuse^  reclining  gracefully 
on  her  chaise  longue,  was  heard  to  inquire  ironically  of 
a  friend  about  to  present  to  her  a  young  abbe  who  had 
come  to  ask  for  a  benefice  :  "  Is  this  man  of  good  moral 
character  ?  " 

But,  with  all  her  faults  and  follies,  Madeleine  Guimard 
was  not  without  redeeming  qualities.  Of  her,  as  of 
Madame  du  Barry,  it  might  be  said  that,  if  her  wealth 
was  ill-gotten,  it  was  not  always  ill-spent.  No  more 
charitable  woman  breathed  ;  her  purse  was  always  open 
to  the  necessitous,  and  she  was  never  happier  than  when 
relieving  the  wants  of  others.  Grimm  relates  that  during 
the  terrible  January  of  1768,  when  whole  families  of  the 
poorer  inhabitants  of  Paris  were  perishing  from  cold  and 
hunger,  Mile.  Guimard  begged  the  Prince  de  Soubise 
to  give  her  her  New  Year's  gift  in  money,  instead  of  the 
jewellery  which  was  his  customary  offering  to  his  enchan- 
tresses. Then,  one  evening,  she  left  her  house,  alone 
and  simply  dressed,  taking  with  her  the  6000  livres  which 
that  good-natured  libertine  had  sent  her,^  and  distributed 
the  money,  together  with  a  considerable  sum  from  her 

^  The  Mhnoirfs  secrets  attribute  another  source  to  the  6003  livres  : 
"  This  actress,  very  celebrated  by  her  talents,  having  had  a  rendezvous  in 
an  isolated  faubourg  with  a  man  whose  robe  exacted  the  most  profound 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  115 

own  pocket,  among  her  indigent  neighbours,  visiting  the 
most  squalid  and  miserable  dwellings,  in  order  to  discover 
the  cases  most  deserving  of  assistance.  This  generous 
act,  it  appears,  was  accomplished  with  the  most  pro- 
found secrecy,  and  until  the  inquiries  of  the  police  had 
penetrated  the  mystery,  not  even  the  objects  of  her 
bounty  had  the  slightest  clue  to  the  identity  of  their 
benefactress. 

Mile.  Guimard's  benevolence  is  commemorated  by 
a  rare  engraving  of  the  time,  without  the  name  of  the 
draughtsman  or  the  engraver,  bearing  the  title  : 

Terpsichore  Charitable 
ou 
Mademoiselle  Guimard 
visitant  les  Pauvres. 

In  this  engraving  one  sees  an  old  woman  lying  on  a  pallet 
in  a  barn,  and,  advancing  towards  her,  a  lady  wearing  a 
hood,  followed  by  a  troupe  of  Cupids,  bearing  bread, 
soup,  and  wine. 

The  ballerina's  liberality  was  far  from  being  confined 
to  the  poor.  Her  purse  was  open  to  all,  no  matter  how 
little  claim  they  might  have  upon  her.  Struggling  trades- 
men in  the  grasp  of  usurers,  clerks  out  of  employment, 
and  even  gamblers  unable  to  discharge  their  obligations 
came  to  knock  at  the  door  of  her  hotel,  and  few  went 
empty  away.  Once,  an  officer  came  to  ask  for  the  loan 
of  a  hundred  louis,  wherewith  to  pay  a  debt  of  honour, 
and   offered   to   sign   a   document   in   acknowledgment. 

mystery,  had  occasion  to  witness  the  misery,  grief,  and  despair  of  the  people 
of  this  neighbourhood,  on  account  of  the  excessive  cold.  Her  heart  was 
moved  with  compassion  at  such  a  sight,  and  of  the  2000  ecus,  the  fruit  of  her 
iniquity,  she  herself  distributed  a  part  and  carried  the  balance  to  thecur^ 
of  Saint-Roch,  for  the  same  purpose." 


ii6  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Mile.  Guimard,  "  your  word  is 
quite  enough  for  me.  I  imagine  that  an  officer  will  have 
at  least  as  much  honour  as  an  Opera-girl." 

Her  house  at  Pantin  did  not  long  content  Mile. 
Guimard  ;  and  she,  accordingly,  conceived  the  idea  of 
building  herself  an  hotel  in  Paris ;  not  an  ordinary  hotel, 
be  it  understood,  but  a  veritable  palace,  a  palace  such 
as  no  divinity  of  the  stage  had  ever  before  inhabited, 
save  in  her  dreams.  The  will  of  the  danseuse  was  law 
to  her  adorers ;  the  prince,  the  bishop,  and  the  farmer- 
general  hastened  to  disgorge  the  necessary  funds,  and 
the  "  Temple  of  Terpsichore,"  as  it  was  called  by  the 
Parisians,  began  to  rise.  The  site  chosen  was  in  the 
Rue  de  la  Chaussee-d'Antin,  not  far  from  the  spot  where 
stood  the  hotel  of  a  rival  courtesan,  Mile.  Dervieux. 
Le  Doux,  the  architect  of  Madame  du  Barry's  pavilion 
at  Louveciennes,  drew  up  the  plans. 

A  charming  coloured  sketch,  in  imitation  of  a  water- 
colour  of  the  time,  has  preserved  to  us  the  appearance 
of  the  hotel  of  Mile.  Guimard.  The  porch  is  adorned 
by  four  columns,  above  which  is  an  isolated  group,  in 
Conflans  stone,  6  ft.  in  proportion,  representing  Terpsi- 
chore being  crowned  by  Apollo.  This  was  the  work  of 
the  sculptor  Le  Comte,  who  is  also  responsible  for  a 
beautiful  bas-relief,  22  ft.  in  length,  and  4  ft.  in  height, 
where  he  has  executed  the  triumph  of  the  Muse  of 
dancing,  who  is  shown  seated  in  a  chariot,  drawn  by 
Cupids,  preceded  by  Bacchantes  and  Fauns,  and  followed 
by  the  Graces  of  choregraphy. 

Two  little  windows  enable  us  to  obtain  a  glimpse  of 
the  interior.  One  shows  us  the  ante-chamber  and  the 
salle~d-manger,  the  latter  of  which  is  decorated  with 
vases  of  gushing  water,  borne  by  groups  of  Naiads.     The 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  117 

other  introduces  us  into  the  theatre,  an  imitation 
in  miniature  of  the  salle  at  Versailles,  with  a  ceiling 
painted  byTaravel,  and  accommodation  for  five  hundred 
spectators.^ 

This  little  palace,  built  and  embellished  under  the 
supervision  of  the  adoring  La  Borde,  was  a  jewel  of 
architecture,  a  marvel  of  decorative  taste.  "  Picture  to 
yourself,"  says  a  brochure  of  the  time,  "  picture  to  yourself 
the  happy  and  most  brilliant  assemblage  of  all  the  arts  : 
they  meet  here  to  surpass  themselves. 

"  The  exterior  is  charming.  The  intention  of  the 
architect  has  been  to  represent  the  Temple  of  Terpsichore 
in  the  fagade  of  the  entrance  side ;  it  would  have 
been  impossible  to  be  more  successful. 

"  In  a  little  space,  this  delightful  residence  offers  every 
conceivable  advantage  and  charm,  and  what  is  not  pre- 
sented by  truth  is  supplied  by  prestige.  There  is  nothing, 
even  to  the  garden,  which  does  not  charm  and  astonish 
by  its  wholly  novel  taste.  The  apartments  seem  to  owe 
their  different  charms  to  magic  ;  riches  without  con- 
fusion, gallantry  without  indecorum  ;  they  show  us  the 
interior  of  the  Palace  of  Love,  embellished  by  the  Graces. 
The  bedchamber  invites  repose ;  the  salon,  pleasure ; 
the  salle-d-manger,  gaiety ;  the  forms  are  ingenious, 
without,  however,  there  being  any  recourse  to  the  extrava- 
gance of  contrast,  which  is  so  often  abused.  A  hothouse 
in  the  interior  of  the  apartment  takes  the  place  in  the 
winter  of  a  garden  ;    it  is  furnished  with  a  similar  taste. ^ 

^  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  La  Guimard,  p.  89. 

^  Walpole,  writing  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  on  September  9, 1771,  says  of  the 
H6tel  Guimard  :  "  The  salle-a-manger  is  to  have  des  serres  chaudes  {sic) 
round  it,  with  windows  opening  into  the  room ;  that  it  may  have  orange- 
flowers  and  odours  all  the  winter." 


ii8  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

The  design  is  soft,  without  injury  to  the  effect ;  the 
trellis  is  in  accordance  with  the  best  architectural  taste  ; 
the  arabesques  have  nothing  fantastic  about  them  ;  the 
execution  of  all  these  different  marvels  appears  to  be 
the  work  of  the  same  hand.  Delicious  harmony,  which 
puts  the  comhle  upon  the  reputation  of  the  architect, 
since  it  proves  him  to  have  recognised  the  importance  of 
the  choice  of  the  artists  who  have  seconded  his  efforts, 
and  the  importance  of  impressing  them  with  his  own 
ideas.  We  find  here  a  little  ballroom,  whose  style  of 
decoration  renders  it  enchanting  and  perhaps  unique. 
One  finds  also  a  miniature  theatre,  which  may  be  regarded 
as  a  chef-d^ ceuvre  of  its  kind.  .  .  ."  ^ 

Two  interesting  anecdotes,  both  relating  to  famous 
painters  of  the  eighteenth  century,  attach  to  the  adorn- 
ment of  the  "  Temple  of  Terpsichore."  Mile.  Guimard 
often  came  to  visit  her  palace  and  supervise  the  decora- 
tions of  the  interior.  One  day,  she  remarked  a  young 
artist  who  was  painting  the  arabesques  on  the  walls, 
and,  observing  that  he  seemed  sad  and  dispirited,  ques- 
tioned him  and  learned  that  he  was  studying  under  Vien, 
but  that  poverty  compelled  him  to  earn  his  bread  by 
undertaking  commissions  of  this  kind,  and  prevented  him 
from  devoting  himself  to  the  studies  necessary  to  enable 
him  to  compete  with  success  for  the  Prix  de  Rome.  The 
kind  heart  of  the  danseuse  was  touched  by  the  young 
man's  story  ;  she  immediately  told  him  to  abandon  his 
work  in  the  Chaussee-d'Antin  and  return  to  his  studies, 
and  sent  him  each  month  two  hundred  livres  for  his 
expenses.  Thanks  to  her  generosity,  Vien's  pupil  was 
able  to  take  full  advantage  of  his  master's  lessons,  and, 

'  Mctra,  Correspondance  secrhe,  vol.  viii.     Edmond  de  Goncourt,  La 
Guimard,  p.  90. 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  119 

studying  with  unremitting  ardour,  carried  off  the  coveted 
prize.  This  young  artist  was  none  other  than  Jacques 
Louis  David,  the  painter  of  Socrates^  Brutus,  The  Sabines, 
and  Leonidas. 

The  other  story  relates  to  Fragonard.  Fragonard 
had  been  chosen  by  Le  Doux  to  paint  the  principal  panel 
of  the  grand  salon,  a  repetition  in  painting  of  the  sculp- 
ture of  the  fagade,  that  is  to  say,  the  representation  of 
Mile.  Guimard  as  Terpsichore,  and  "surrounded  by  all 
the  attributes  which  were  able  to  characterise  her  in  the 
most  seducing  manner."  The  work  was  still  unfinished, 
when  a  quarrel  arose  between  the  lady  and  the  painter, 
which  ended  in  the  latter  being  sent  away  and  the  com- 
pletion of  the  task  entrusted  to  another  artist.  One 
day,  curious  to  see  how  his  work  had  fared  in  the  hands 
of  his  successor,  Fragonard  found  means  to  introduce 
himself  into  the  house,  and  made  his  way  to  the  salon 
without  encountering  any  one.  Here,  the  sight  of  a 
palette  and  colours  gave  him  the  idea  of  a  very  piquant 
revenge.  In  four  strokes  of  the  brush,  he  effaced  the 
smile  from  the  lips  of  Terpsichore,  and  imparted  to  them 
instead  an  expression  of  anger  and  fury,  taking  care,  how- 
ever, to  make  no  other  alterations  in  the  portrait.  This 
done,  he  took  his  departure  as  stealthily  as  he  had  entered. 

As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  not  long  afterwards.  Mile. 
Guimard  herself  arrived  on  the  scene,  accompanied  by 
a  party  of  friends,  who  had  come  to  pass  judgment  on 
the  work  of  the  new  painter.  Her  indignation  and  disgust 
at  finding  herself  thus  disfigured  may  be  readily  imagined^ 
but  the  more  angry  did  she  become,  the  more  striking 
was  the  resemblance  between  herself  and  the  portrait, 
a  fact  upon  which,  we  may  be  very  sure,  the  wittier 
members  of  the  party  did  not  fail  to  comment. 


120  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

The  little  theatre,  of  which  we  have  already  spoken, 
was  inaugurated  on  December  8,  1772,  before  even  the 
house  itself  was  completed.  The  pieces  selected  for 
the  occasion  were  La  Partie  de  Chasse  de  Henri  IF.,  and 
that  exceedingly  gay  comedy,  La  Verite  dans  le  vin,  both 
by  Colle,  Mile.  Guimard's  favourite  dramatist ;  and 
great  was  the  competition  in  fashionable  circles  to  obtain 
tickets  of  admission.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the 
performance  of  the  former  play  by  the  members  of  the 
Comedie-Fran9aise,  at  Pantin,  at  Christmas  1768,  had 
been  forbidden  by  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber ;  but 
now,  thanks  to  the  good  ofhces  of  the  Prince  de  Soubise, 
the  prohibition,  though  repeated,  was  annulled  by 
Louis  XV.  himself.  A  new  difficulty,  however,  arose, 
through  the  opposition  of  Christophe  de  Beaumont,  the 
austere  Archbishop  of  Paris,  who  objected  to  the  opening 
of  the  theatre,  on  account  of  the  licentious  character 
of  La  Verite  dans  le  vin,  and,  to  pacify  the  metropolitan, 
it  was  found  necessary  to  substitute  for  this  comedy  a 
pantomime  entitled  Pygmaliori,  a  parody  of  Colle's  little 
play  of  that  name.  On  the  great  night.  Mile.  Guimard 
must  have  been  a  proud  woman  indeed,  since  the  most 
distinguished  members  of  the  beau  monde  and  the  demi- 
monde had  congregated  in  the  "  Temple  of  Terpsichore," 
to  do  honour  to  its  mistress  :  two  Princes  of  the  Blood, 
the  Due  de  Chartres  and  the  Comte  de  Lamarche,  and 
a  select  assortment  of  the  most  fascinating  courtesans 
in  Paris,  "  all  radiant  with  diamonds." 

In  June  1773,  the  Prince  de  Soubise,  ordinarily  the 
most  complacent  of  lovers,  who  had,  up  to  that  time, 
accepted  with  an  almost  marital  indifference  the  division 
of  Mile.  Guimard's  favours  between  M.  de  la  Borde  and 
himself    suddenly  developed  a  violent  attack  of  jealousy 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  121 

and  insisted  on  the  lady  giving  the  farmer-general  his 
conge.  Poor  La  Borde  was  in  despair  and  straightway 
fell  into  a  condition  of  the  deepest  melancholy,  which 
even  his  beloved  music  was  powerless  to  dissipate.  At 
length,  he  determined  to  act  on  his  own  maxim  :  "  On 
combat  V amour  -par  la  fuite  et  la  colere  par  le  silence^''^ 
and  departed  on  a  course  of  foreign  travel,  visiting, 
amongst  other  places,  Ferney,  with  a  commission  from 
Madame  du  Barry  to  kiss  its  owner  on  both  cheeks. 

Nothing  seems  to  have  delighted  Mile.  Guimard 
more  than  scandalising  the  devout,  and  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  entertainments  which  she  gave  in 
her  two  theatres  at  Pantin  and  the  Chaussee-d'Antin 
contributed  very  effectively  to  that  end.  In  the  early 
spring  of  1776,  she  conceived  the  idea  of  organising 
"  a  picnic  of  scandalous  immorality,  a  picnic  such 
as  French  society  had  never  yet  beheld."  There  was 
to  be  a  play,  needless  to  say  of  a  very  free  and  easy 
kind,  in  which  Mile.  Guimard  herself  was  to  take  part, 
and  the  famous  courtesan,  Mile.  Duthe,  to  dance.  Then 
Mile.  Dervieux  was  charged  to  order  from  a  fashionable 
traiteur  a  sumptuous  supper.  And  the  play  and  the 
supper  were  to  be  followed  by  a  ball,  gambling  for 
colossal  stakes — it  is  to  be  presumed  the  ladies  did  not 
intend  to  risk  their  own  money — and  "  everything  which 
could  accompany  an  orgy  of  this  nature." 

The  f^te,  originally  fixed  for  the  Carnival,  had  been 
postponed  to  the  first  Thursday  in  Lent,  in  order,  say 
the  Memoires  secrets^  to  render  it  more  singular  and  more 
celebrated. 

All  was  arranged,  the  play  staged,  the  supper  prepared, 
when,  on  the  complaint  of  Mile.  Guimard's  enemy,  the 

'  See  note,  p.  109,  supra. 


122  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Archbishop  of  Paris,  the  King  interfered  and  sent  an 
order  prohibiting  play,  ball,  and  supper.  The  Comte 
d'Artois  and  the  Due  de  Chartres,  both  of  whom  were 
to  assist  at  the  entertainment,  did  everything  in  their 
power  to  obtain  a  reversal  of  the  order,  but  without 
success ;  and  the  commandant  of  the  watch  received 
instructions  to  post  men  in  the  streets  leading  from  the 
traiteur's  shop  to  the  Chaussee-d'Antin,  to  intercept 
the  supper  on  its  way  to  Mile.  Guimard's  hotel. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  danseuse  and  her 
friends  decided  that  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to 
abandon  the  proposed  entertainment,  and  send  the 
supper  to  the  cure  of  Saint-Roch,  for  distribution  among 
the  sick  poor  of  his  parish.  And,  as  each  of  the  sub- 
scribers to  the  prohibited  picnic  had  contributed  the 
sum  of  five  louis,  the  wits  named  it,  "  le  re-pas  des  Chevaliers 
de  Saint-Louis.''^ 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  archbishop  and  the 
divots,  the  theatre  of  the  Chaussee-d'Antin  continued  to 
flourish  and  to  number  amongst  its  patrons  Princes  of 
the  Blood,  grands  seigneurs  of  the  Court,  and  courtesans 
of  the  highest  distinction.  The  parody  of  Ernelinde, 
composed  by  the  dancer  Despreaux,  performed  there 
in  September  1777,  enjoyed  an  immense  success,  and 
was  commanded  to  be  represented  before  the  Court  at 
Choisy,  the  following  month,  when  the  young  King,  who 
had  hitherto  shown  but  little  taste  for  the  theatre,  laughed 
so  immoderately  throughout  the  three  acts,  that  he 
bestowed  a  pension  on  the  dancer. 

Mile.  Guimard's  life  of  gallantry  and  extravagance 
did  not  cause  her  to  neglect  her  profession.  No  more 
assiduous  student  of  her  art  ever  pirouetted  across  a  stage, 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  123 

and  her  career  was  a  series  of  almost  unbroken  triumphs. 
In  the  ballet  of  La  Chercheuse  d'' esprit,  by  Gardel  the 
elder,  played  before  the  Court  in  1777,  and  produced 
at  the  Opera  the  following  year,  her  dancing  and  panto- 
mime, in  the  part  of  Nicette,  were  generally  allowed  to 
have  been  inimitable. 

"  The  difficulty  of  pantomime,"  writes  Lefuel  de 
Mericourt,  in  his  journal  Le  Nouveau  Spectateur,  "  is 
the  power  of  expressing  by  means  of  gesture  what  seems 
to  require  the  assistance  of  words.  It  was  difficult,  for 
example,  in  the  person  of  the  Chercheuse  d"* esprit  to  supply 
it  in  the  verse, 

'  Ailez  chercher  de  Tesprit,' 

which  forms  the  noeud  of  the  piece.  But  the  acting 
of  the  Guimard  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired  at  this 
interesting  moment." 

The  critic  of  the  Mercure  de  France  is  still  more 
eulogistic  :  "  One  cannot  praise  too  highly  the  talent  of 
Mile.  Guimard,  in  the  role  of  Nicette.  It  is  necessary 
to  see  her  to  confess  that  never  has  one  rendered  a 
simpleton  {niaise),  at  the  same  time  simple  and  mis- 
chievous, more  gracefully  than  this  charming  actrice- 
danseuse,  who,  in  her  art,  is  always  what  one  would  desire 
her  to  be." 

And  Grimm,  in  his  Correspondance  litteraire,  after 
declaring  that  the  talent  of  Mile.  Guimard  has  caused  one 
to  overlook  the  faults  of  the  ballet,  praises  the  danseuse 
in  these  terms  :  "  She  has  imparted  to  the  role  of  Nicette, 
a  gradation  of  shades,  so  fine,  so  correct,  so  delicate,  so 
piquant,  that  the  most  ingenious  poetry  would  be  power- 
less to  render  the  same  characters  with  more  wit,  delicacy, 
or  truth.  All  her  steps,  all  her  movements,  are  soft 
and  harmonious,  and   exhibit  a  meaning  both  sure  and 


124  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

picturesque.  How  naive  is  her  simplicity,  and  yet  how 
devoid  of  silliness  !  How  well  does  her  natural  grace 
conceal  itself  without  affectation  !  How  gradually  does 
her  character  expand,  and  how  much  she  pleases,  without 
exerting  herself  to  please  !  How  she  comes  to  life  in  the 
sweet  rays  of  sentiment  !  It  is  a  rosebud  which  one  sees 
expand,  to  escape  slowly  from  the  fetters  which  envelop 
it,  to  tremble  into  bloom.  We  have  never  seen,  in  this 
kind  of  imitation,  anything  more  delicious  or  more 
perfect." 

Some  months  later,  in  Ninette  a  la  Cour,  she  played 
the  part  of  Ninette  "  in  a  way  which  stupefied  the 
spectators."  "  One  was  really  confounded  to  see  this 
artiste,  admired  hitherto  for  the  grace  of  her  acting, 
transform  herself  of  a  sudden  into  a  maladroit,  awkward 
creature,  overcome  with  astonishment  at  the  novel 
sights  which  meet  her  eyes,  and  depicting  in  a  striking 
manner  the  impressions  of  a  peasant  leaving  her  village 
for  the  first  time.  The  following  circumstance  is  able 
to  convey  some  idea  of  the  difficulties  which  Mile. 
Guimard  had  overcome  in  this  role.  It  was  remarked  that 
at  the  time  of  the  minuet  that  Nicette  dances  before 
the  King  and  his  Court,  she  made  great  efforts  to  dance 
out  of  time,  and  that  generally,  in  spite  of  herself,  the 
sensibility  of  her  ear  forced  her  to  dance  correctly."  ^ 

Other  scarcely  less  brilliant  triumphs  awaited  Mile. 
Guimard  in  the  ballets  of  Les  Caprices  de  Galatheej 
composed  expressly  for  her  by  Noverre,  Medee  et  JasoUy 
Myrza^  La  Rosiere,  and  Le  Premier  Navigateur^  ou  le 
Pouvoir  de  Vamour.  Her  success  in  the  last-named 
piece,  produced  on  July  26,  1785,  four  years  before  her 

'  Campardon,  Z.'y^r<2Jm2>  royale  de  Musiqiie  au  Xl'lH^  siede  :  Article 
"Guimard." 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  125 

retirement  from  the  stage,  was  celebrated  by  the  poet 
Dorat  in  the  following  pretty  verses  : 

"  Quelle  nymphe  l^gdirc,  a  mes  yeux  se  pr^sente  ! 
Deesse,  elle  folatre  et  n'est  point  imposante, 
Son  front  s'^panouit  avec  s6r6nit6, 
Ses  cheveux  sont  flottants,  le  rire  est  sa  beaute. 
D'un  feston  de  jasmin,  sa  tete  est  couronn^e, 
Et  sa  robe  voltige,  aux  vents  abandonnee. 
Mille  songes  Idgers  I'environnent  toujours  ; 
Plus  que  le  printemps  mcmc,  elle  fait  les  beaux  jours. 
Des  matelots  joyeux,  rassemblcs  aupris  d'elle 
Ddtonnent  a  sa  gloirc  une  ronde  nouvelle, 
Et  de  jeunes  pasteurs,  d^sertant  les  hameaux, 
Viennent  la  saluer  aux  sons  des  chalumeaux. 
C'est  I'aimable  gaitc  ;  qui  peut  la  m^connaitre, 
Au  chagrin  qui  s'envole,  aux  jeux  qu'elle  fait  naitre  ? 
Fille  de  I'innocence,  image  du  bonheur, 
Le  charme  quite  suit,  a  passe  dans  mon  cceur. 
Sur  ce  gazon  fleuri  qu'elle  a  choisi  pour  trAne, 
Pasteurs,  executons  les  danses  qu'elle  ordonne. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Fuyez,  arr6tez-vous,  suspendez  votre  ivresse  ; 

Comme  Guimard  enfin  appelez  les  d^sirs, 

Et  que  vos  pas  brillants  soient  le  vol  des  plaisirs."  1 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  such  an  artiste 
was  appreciated  as  she  deserved  by  the  administration 
of  the  Opera,  to  whom  she  rendered  so  many  services. 
Unfortunately,  she  not  seldom  abused  the  position 
which  her  talent  and  her  intimate  relations  with  the 
most  distinguished  personages  of  the  time  gave  her,  and 
occasioned  the  unfortunate  directors  almost  as  much 
trouble  and  anxiety,  in  her  way,  as  did  Sophie  Arnould. 
Thus,  in  the  spring  of  1772,  she,  with  her  lover,  the  dancer 
Dauberval,  organised  a  mutiny  against  Rebel,  who  had 
'  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  La  Guimard,  p.  226. 


126  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

just  been  appointed  "  Directeur-general  de  1' Academic 
royale  de  Musique  " — a  mutiny  which  was  only  quelled 
by  the  personal  interference  of  the  Minister  of  the 
King's  Household,  who  summoned  the  malcontents 
before  him  and  threatened  them  with  severe  pains 
and  penalties  if  they  continued  contumacious.  Six 
years  later,  we  find  her  at  the  head  of  the  opposition  to 
Devismes,  who,  appointed  director  of  the  Opera  at 
Easter  1778,  had  introduced  various  innovations,  which, 
though  popular  with  the  patrons  of  the  theatre,  were 
strongly  resented  by  the  artistes.  The  principal  "  in- 
surgents "  held  what  they  called  a  "  Congress  "  at 
Mile.  Guimard's  hotel,  and  xAuguste  Vestris,  with  charac- 
teristic modesty,  compared  his  position  with  that  of 
Washington.  The  revolt  ended  in  the  town  of  Paris 
cancelling  Devismes's  appointment  and  taking  upon 
itself  the  management  of  the  theatre,  Devismes  receiving 
a  large  sum  by  way  of  compensation.^ 

A  memoir  sent  by  Antoine  Dauvergne,  the  then 
director  of  the  Opera,  in  1781,  to  La  Ferte,  Intendant 
des  Menus,  shows  us  Mile.  Guimard  supreme  in  the 
coulisses  of  the  theatre.  All  the  affairs  of  the  Opera, 
he  says,  are  treated  of  in  private  committees  held  at 
Mile.  Guimard's  hotel,  and  the  orders  of  the  administra- 
tion are  ignored  whenever  they  happen  to  clash  with  the 
wishes  of  the  lady,  to  whom  every  one — dancers,  vocalists, 
composers,  scene-painters,  and  so  forth — is  subservient. 

'  Previous  to  this  arrangement  being  arrived  at,  the  Chevalier  de  Saint- 
George,  the  Creole,  famous  as  a  fencer  and  musician,  offered,  witli  the 
assistance  of  a  society  of  capitalists,  to  undertake  the  direction  of  the  Opera. 
But  Mile.  Guimard,  Sophie  Arnould,  and  certain  other  nymphs,  jealous 
of  the  honour  of  their  profession,  addressed  a  petition  to  the  Queen,  repre- 
senting that  their  honour  would  not  allow  them  to  submit  to  the  direction 
of  a  mulatto. 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  127 

A  little  later,  Dauvergne  complains  that  the  demoiselle 
Guimard  refuses  to  have  an  understudy  in  the  ballets 
d^action,  in  consequence  of  which,  whenever  she  is  unable 
to  appear,  there  can  be  no  ballet  ;  also  that  she  has 
quarrelled  with  Noverre  and  proscribed  his  ballets. 
"  Not  only  does  she  refuse  to  dance  in  them  herself,  but 
she  is  unwilling  for  other  persons  to  dance  in  them."  ^ 

There  exists  a  curious  document,  dated  1783,  drawn 
up  by  La  Ferte,  for  the  information  of  the  Minister 
of  the  King's  Household,  on  the  talents,  faults,  habits, 
characters,  and  so  forth  of  the  singers  and  dancers  of  the 
Opera.  And  here  is  what  the  Intendant  des  Menus  says 
of  Mile.  Guimard  : 

"  D"*  Guimard. — Premiere  danseuse  de  demi-carac- 
tere.  Her  talent  is  known  to  every  one  ;  on  the  stage 
she  still  retains  a  very  youthful  appearance  ;  if  she  has 
not  a  great  deal  of  execution  in  her  dancing,  she  possesses, 
by  way  of  compensation,  much  grace  ;  she  is  very  good 
in  ballets  d^action  and  in  pantomime  ;  she  has  much 
zeal  and  works  hard  ;  but  she  is  an  enormous  expense 
to  the  Opera,  where  her  wishes  are  followed  with  as 
much  respect  as  if  she  was  its  director.  Following  her 
example,  the  other  actresses  demand  the  most  costly 
dresses  and  equipments." 

But  enormous  expense  or  not,  the  directors  of  the 
Opera  seemed  to  have  been  possessed  by  an  ever-present 
dread  lest  Mile.  Guimard  should  take  it  into  her  head 
to  retire  or  transfer  her  services  to  some  foreign  stage. 
After  the  destruction  of  the  Opera  by  fire  in  June  1781, 
and  while  the  new  Opera  of  the  Porte  Saint-Martin 
was   in  course  of  erection,   the   minds   of  many  of  the 

'  Campardon,  i'^fd</mj>  royale  de  Musique  au  XVIII'  siick  :  Article, 
"  Dauvergne." 


128  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

homeless  singers  and  dancers  "  turned  towards  the  shores 
of  Great  Britain  and  the  guineas  of  Drury  Lane,"  and, 
in  spite  of  the  most  stringent  precautions  on  the  part  of 
the  Government,  several  of  them  succeeded  in  emigra- 
ting.^ Although  Mile.  Guimard's  fortune  placed  her  in 
a  position,  where,  according  to  the  expression  of  La 
Ferte,  "  she  had  very  little  need  to  trouble  herself  about 
England,"  the  anxious  Intendant  was  only  half-reassured 
and  wrote  to  the  Minister  of  the  King's  Household, 
begging  him  to  use  every  inducement  possible  to  keep 
the  lady  in  France. 

Mile.  Guimard  remained  faithful  and  reaped  the 
reward  of  her  fidelity  in  the  spring  of  the  following  year, 
when  she  demanded  and  obtained  a  pension  of  2500 
livres,  which,  with  an  annual  gratification  of  1500  livres 
and  her  salary  of  2000  livres,  brought  her  professional 
income  up  to  6000  livres. 

In  the  fire  at  the  Opera-house,  referred  to  above, 
Mile.  Guimard  had  a  very  narrow  escape  of  her  life. 
The  fire  broke  out  at  the  end  of  the  third  act  of  Orphee^ 
happily  after  the  majority  of  the  audience  had  quitted 
their  seats.  Mile.  Guimard  was  in  her  loge  at  the  time, 
and,  not  daring  to  leave  it,  would  probably  have  been 
stifled,  had  not  a  scene-shifter  come  to  her  assistance 
and,  wrapping  her  in  the  curtains — for  she  was  half- 
undressed — carried  her  through  the  smoke  and  flames 
to  a  place  of  safety. 

This  was  not  the  only  time  the  danseuse  was  in  danger 

'  The  dancer  Nivelon,  who  escaped  across  the  Belgian  frontier,  with  the 
intention  of  making  his  way  to  England,  was  hotly  pursued  by  a  police- 
agent  named  Quidor,  with  orders  to  arrest  him  and  bring  him  back  to  Paris. 
While,  however,  Quidor  was  endeavouring  to  obtain  an  extradition  warrant 
from  the  authorities  at  Brussels,  the  dancer  contrived  to  reach  Ostende 
and  escaped  across  the  Channel. 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  129 

during  the  course  of  her  professional  career.  In  June  1 784, 
while  appearing  at  the  Opera-house  in  the  Haymarket, 
in  London,  then  under  Gallini's  management,  the  theatre 
was  completely  destroyed  by  fire.  Boaden,  in  his  Life 
of  John  Kcmble,  thus  alludes  to  the  catastrophe  : 

"  On  the  17th  of  June  1784,  I  was,  on  my  return  from 
a  visit,  crossing  the  Park  from  Buckingham  Gate  to  Stable 
Yard,  St.  James's,  when  this  most  tremendous  conflagration 
burst  upon  me  ;  it  seemed  to  make  the  long  line  of  trees 
wave  in  an  atmosphere  of  fire.  .  .  .  The  fire  had  com- 
menced in  the  flies  and  burst  through  the  roof  in  a  column 
of  confirmed  fierceness,  that  evinced  its  strength  to  have 
been  irresistible,  even  when  it  was  first  perceived.  In 
the  theatre,  about  two  o'clock,  they  had  been  rehearsing 
a  ballet,  and  the  first  alarm  was  occasioned  by  the  sparks 
of  fire  which  fell  upon  the  heads  of  the  dancers.  Mme. 
Ravelli  was  with  difficulty  saved  by  one  of  the  firemen  ; 
Mme.  Guimard  lost  a  slipper,  but  escaped  in  safety." 

.  A  few  years  after  her  first  appearance  at  the  Opera, 
an  accident  occurred  which  might  have  been  attended 
with  serious  consequences  to  Mile.  Guimard.  One  night 
in  January  1766,  during  a  performance  of  Les  Fetes  de 
r Hymen  et  de  P  Amour,  3.  heavy  piece  of  scenery  fell  upon 
her,  throwing  her  to  the  ground  and  breaking  her  arm. 
Had  it  struck  her  upon  the  head,  she  would  certainly 
have  been  killed. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  1782,  came  the  bankruptcy 
of  the  Prince  de  Guemenee,  whose  wife,  gouvernante 
to  the  children  of  Louis  XVI.,  was  the  daughter  of  the 
Prince  de  Soubise  :  a  catastrophe  which  involved  more 
than  three  thousand  people,  many  of  whom  were  com- 
pletely ruined.  Mile.  Guimard's  tender  relations  with 
the  Prince  de  Soubise  had  come  to  an  end  some  years 


I30  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

earlier — she  had  been  succeeded  in  his  affections  and  the 
enjoyment  of  the  two  thousand  ecus  a  month,  by  her 
niece  and  pupil,  Mile.  Zacharie,  a  damsel  of  fifteen 
summers — but  she  still  remained  on  excellent  terms  with 
her  former  lover  and  received  a  handsome  pension,  as 
the  reward  of  her  not  very  faithful  services.  This 
pension  she  now  determined  to  renounce,  in  favour  of 
the  creditors  of  the  Prince  de  Guemenee,  and  having 
persuaded  several  other  ladies  of  the  ballet,  who,  like 
herself,  had  once  basked  in  the  smiles  of  the  "  Sultan  of 
the  Opera  "  and  had  been  similarly  provided  for,  to 
follow  her  example,  they  met  one  day  in  her  dressing- 
room  and  drew  up  a  letter  to  the  prince  setting  forth 
their  wishes,  copies  of  which  they  caused  to  be  distributed 
among  the  habitues  of  the  theatre. 

Letter   of    Mlle.  Guimard    and    other    danseuses  of    the 
Opera  to  M.  le  Prince  de  Soubise. 

"  MoNSEiGNEUR, — Accustomcd,  my  comrades  and 
myself,  to  have  you  in  our  midst  at  each  performance 
of  the  Theatre-Lyrique,  we  have  observed  with  the  most 
bitter  regret,  that  not  only  were  you  weaned  from  the 
pleasures  of  the  play,  but  that  none  of  us  have  been 
summoned  to  those  frequent  fetits  soupers,  at  which  we 
had,  in  turn,  the  happiness  of  pleasing  and  amusing  you. 
Rumour  has  only  too  well  informed  us  of  the  cause  of 
your  retirement  and  of  your  just  grief.  Up  to  the 
present,  we  have  feared  to  trouble  you,  making  our 
sensibility  yield  to  our  respect ;  we  should  not  even  dare 
to  break  silence,  without  the  pressing  motive  which 
our  delicacy  is  not  able  to  resist.  We  flattered  ourselves, 
Monseigneur,  that  the  bankruptcy  (for  one  must  needs 
employ  a  term  with    which  the    foyers,  the    clubs,   the 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  131 

gazettes,  France,  and  the  whole  of  Europe  resound),  that 
the  bankruptcy  of  M.  le  Prince  de  Guemenee  would  not 
be  on  so  enormous  a  scale  as  was  announced.  But  the 
derangement  of  his  affairs  has  reached  such  a  point  that 
no  hope  remains.  We  have  come  to  this  conclusion  from 
the  generous  sacrifices  to  which,  following  your  example, 
the  principal  chiefs  of  your  illustrious  house  have  resigned 
themselves. 

"  We  should  believe  ourselves  guilty  of  ingratitude, 
were  we  not  to  imitate  you,  in  seconding  your  humanity  ; 
were  we  not  to  return  the  pensions  which  your  munifi- 
cence has  lavished  upon  us.  Apply  these  revenues, 
Monseigneur,  to  the  relief  of  the  many  suffering  military 
men,  the  many  poor  men  of  letters,  the  many  unhappy 
servants,  whom  M.  le  Prince  de  Guemenee  drags  into 
the  abyss  with  him.  As  for  ourselves,  we  have  other 
resources  ;  we  shall  lose  nothing,  Monseigneur,  if  we 
retain  your  esteem  for  us.  We  shall  even  be  the  gainers 
if,  in  refusing  your  benefits,  we  compel  our  detractors 
to   confess   that   we   were   not   altogether   unworthy   of 

them. 

"  We  are  with  profound  respect,  &c. 

"  In  the  dressing-room  of  Mile.  Guimard, 
this  Friday,  December  6,  1782." 

In  August  1783,  Mile.  Guimard  was  attacked  by 
small-pox,  to  the  great  alarm  of  the  patrons  of  the  Opera, 
who  feared  that,  even  if  she  were  to  recover,  the  priests 
might  succeed  in  persuading  her  to  renounce  her  pro- 
fession. Happily,  however,  the  attack  was  a  mild  one, 
and  on  August  29  a  f^te  was  held  at  the  danseuse^s  hotel, 
"  to  render  thanks  to  her  lovers  for  the  care  they  had 
taken  of  her." 

In  the  following  year,  however,  Mile.  Guimard  did 


132  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

announce  her  intention  of  retiring,  whereupon  La  Ferte 
wrote  in  hot  haste  to  the  Minister  of  the  King's  House- 
hold, begging  him  to  promise  her  an  addition  of  one 
thousand  livres  to  her  retiring  pension,  if  she  would 
reconsider  her  decision.  As  the  ballerina  had  already- 
demanded  this  favour,  it  is  probable  that  the  announce- 
ment of  her  approaching  resignation  was  merely  a  ruse 
on  her  part  to  force  the  Minister's  hand. 

The  Minister  replied  the  same  day  to  La  Ferte,  that, 
"  although  a  favour  accorded  to  one  person  opens  the 
door  to  a  whole  crowd  of  pretensions,"  in  consideration 
of  her  long  services,  he  promised  to  assure  to  her,  when 
she  should  retire,  the  additional  thousand  livres  which 
she  demanded  ;  but  on  condition  that  she  should  preserve 
the  most  profound  secrecy  in  regard  to  this  favour. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  year  1785,  Mile.  Guimard 
fell  into  financial  difficulties  and  was  obliged  to  sell  the 
"  Temple  of  Terpsichore,"  in  the  Chaussee-d'Antin. 
Instead  of  putting  it  up  to  auction  or  inviting  private 
offers,  she  decided  to  adopt  the  somewhat  novel  expe- 
dient of  disposing  of  it  by  lottery,  and,  having  succeeded 
in  obtaining  the  permission  of  the  authorities,  or  at  any 
rate  a  promise  that  they  would  not  offer  any  opposition 
to  the  scheme,  caused  the  following  prospectus  to  be 
circulated  : 

"  Prospectus  of  a  lottery  of  the  house  of  Mile.  Guimard^ 
of  which  the  draw  will  take  place  in  public,  May  i,  1786, 
in  a  room  of  the  Hotel  des  Menus.,  Rue  Bergere,  in  the 
presence  of  a  public  ofixial. 

"  This  house  is  situated  at  the  entrance  of  the  Chaussee- 
d'Antin,  and  consists  of  a  building,  with  a  court  on  one 
side  and  a  garden  on  the  other.  The  side  facing  the 
court    is    adorned    by  a  peristyle  ;    the    rex-de-chaussee^ 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  133 

which  is  raised  on  eight  steps,  is  divided  into  an  ante- 
chamber, dining-room,  bedchamber,  boudoir,  a  large 
room  lighted  from  above,  to  serve  as  a  picture-gallery, 
dressing-room,  bathroom,  &c.,  all  richly  decorated. 

"  Above  are  also  private  apartments  very  commo- 
dious, and  likewise  very  richly  decorated. 

"  A  building  facing  the  street  contains  stables  and 
coach-houses,  and  above  is  a  theatre  with  all  its  accessories. 

"  The  garden  is  adorned  with  covered  bowers.  The 
greater  part  of  the  furniture  remains  in  the  house,  having 
been  made  for  the  place. 

"The  lottery  will  consist  of  2500  tickets,  at  120 
livres  a  ticket,  of  which  one  will  be  the  winner. 

"  Immediately  after  the  lottery  has  been  drawn,  Mile. 
Guimard  will  transfer  the  contract  of  the  sale  of  the  house 
and  the  furniture,  to  the  benefit  of  the  owner  of  the 
winning  lot." 

The  drawing  of  the  lottery,  originally  fixed  for  May  i, 
1786,  was,  for  some  reason,  postponed  until  the  22nd 
of  the  month,  when  it  took  place  in  a  tent  erected  in  the 
garden  of  the  Hotel  des  Menus.  There  were  two  wheels, 
in  one  of  which  had  been  placed  2500  numbered  tickets, 
and  in  the  other  2499  blank  tickets  and  one  bearing  the 
word  Lot.  The  draw  began  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  but  it  was  not  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  after 
2267  tickets  had  been  drawn,  that  the  winning  one  was 
forthcoming,  when  it  was  found  that  Mile.  Guimard's 
hotel  had  become  the  property  of  the  Comtesse  de  Lau, 
who  had  only  purchased  a  single  ticket.  That  lady 
subsequently  sold  the  hotel  to  the  banker  Perregaux, 
for  500,000  livres. 

Mile.   Guimard  was   growing  old  ;     the   fatal   epoch 


134  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

when  beauty  is  usually  compelled  to  renounce  its  rights 
had  come  ;  but,  like  the  wicked  old  Marechal  de  Riche- 
lieu, she  seemed  to  have  drunk  of  the  fountain  of  eternal 
youth,  and  on  the  boards  of  the  Opera,  environed  by 
her  cloud  of  gauze,  she  appeared  as  young  and  fresh  and 
charming  as  ever.  What  was  her  secret  ?  According 
to  the  actor  Fleury  it  was  an  ingenious  one.  At  twenty 
years  of  age,  he  tells  us,  she  had  had  her  portrait  painted 
by  a  faithful  hand,  and  now,  each  morning  in  her  boudoir, 
with  this  picture  on  one  side  and  her  mirror  on  the  other, 
she  worked  to  assimilate  the  face  she  saw  reflected  in  the 
latter  to  the  work  of  the  painter,  nor  did  she  desist  from 
her  labours  until  she  felt  certain  of  a  perfect  resemblance. 
Her  admirers,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  observe,  were  not 
admitted  to  this  function.^ 

Mile.  Guimard  visited  London  on  several  occasions 
during  the  season  to  dance  at  the  Opera  House  in  the 
Haymarket  or  at  Covent  Garden.  Three  letters,  two 
written  respectively  on  June  20, 1784,  and  April  16,  1789, 
to  the  banker  Perregaux,  the  third  bearing  date  May  26 
(probably  1787),  contain  some  interesting  details  about 
her  sojourn  in  England.  From  the  first,  we  learn  that 
she  was  engaged  at  a  salary  of  650  guineas,  half  of  which 
seems  to  have  been  paid  in  advance  and  the  balance  on 
the  termination  of  her  engagement.  The  latter  instal- 
ment she  complains  that  she  had  just  seen  devoured  by 
a  fire  which  had  reduced  the  theatre  to  ashes.  She 
graciously  says  that  she  has  no  complaint  to  make  of  the 
inhabitants  of  London  ;  but  the  Italians  of  the  Opera — 
"  Ah^  les  coquins  !  "  They  are  everything  that  is  bad. 
And  the  rest  of  the  letter  is  chiefly  taken  up  with  an 
account  of  her  dispute  with  Gallini  as  to  whether  or  not 

^  Memoires  de  Fleury  f  ii.  1 1 9. 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  135 

her  articles  had  been  dissolved  by  the  destruction  of  the 
theatre. 

The  second  letter,  in  order  of  date,  is  more  interest- 
ing. "  Since  my  arrival  in  this  town,"  she  writes,  "  the 
people  have  not  left  me  a  single  moment  to  myself.  I 
am  overwhelmed  by  the  kindness  of  all  the  great  ladies 
and  principally  of  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire.  I  pass 
all  my  time  with  her,  when  I  am  not  engaged  at  the 
theatre.  In  truth,  my  dear  little  good  friend,  the  manner 
in  which  I  am  everywhere  received  is  so  flattering  that 
a  less  sensible  head  than  that  of  your  little  good  friend 
might  be  turned  by  it."  She  goes  on  to  say  that  she  has 
just  been  given  a  benefit  performance,  which  has  realised 
950  guineas,  and  has  concluded  an  engagement  for  the 
last  five  weeks  of  her  stay  in  England.  For  this  she  is 
to  receive  650  guineas,  "  which  makes  a  very  pretty  sum 
for  me  to  bring  back  to  Paris."  "  This  journey  has  not 
been  so  unprofitable,  hein  !  What  think  you  about  it  ? 
They  love  me  to  distraction,  these  good  English  !  Voila 
ce  que  c''est  que  le  merite  !  " 

The  third  letter  shows  us  that  in  London  the  ballerina 
was  regarded  as  the  very  glass  of  fashion :  *'  For  the  ball 
[a  ball  at  Drury  Lane  organised  by  the  Duchess  of  Devon- 
shire and  other  ladies]  one  must  have  dresses,  and  the 
English  ladies  are  as  coquettish  as  the  French.  The 
moment  I  alighted  from  my  carriage  on  my  arrival,  I 
was  besieged  by  marchandes  des  modes  and  tailors,  who 
had  come  to  beg  me,  on  the  part  of  the  ladies,  to  give 
my  opinion  on  their  costumes.  You  know  well  that  I 
did  not  make  the  fashions." 

Of  Mile.  Guimard's  visits  to  England  there  exists 
a  weird  souvenir  in  the  form  of  a  coloured  etching 
entitled  : 


136  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  The  Celebrated  Mademoiselle  G rd,  or  Grim- 
hard,  from  Paris.  Published  by  Thomas  Humphrey, 
May  26,  1787." 

The  leanness  of  the  ballerina,  of  which  we  have 
spoken  elsewhere,  seems  to  have  increased  with  years,  and 
was  the  theme  of  jests  innumerable  at  her  expense  and 
that  of  her  lovers,  most  of  them,  however,  good-natured 
enough,  for  Madeleine  Guimard  had  few  enemies,  and 
even  the  chroniclers  of  contemporary  scandal  generally 
have  a  good  word  to  say  for  her. 

In  the  etching  in  question  one  sees,  under  a  toque 
with  sky-blue  plumes,  a  woman,  with  a  death's  head 
crowned  with  false  hair,  and  a  bony  neck,  raising  in  the 
air  a  consumptive  leg  and  waving  her  arms,  at  the  ends 
of  which  are  phalanxes  of  little  bones  in  place  of  fingers.^ 

On  her  return  to  Paris,  from  England,  in  the  summer 
of  1789,  Mile.  Guimard  married  Jean  Etienne  Des- 
preaux,  the  dancing-master  and  poet,  who  had  been  for 
some  years  an  intimate  friend,  though  not,  it  would  appear, 
a  lover. ^    The  marriage  took  place  on  August  14,  at  the 

'  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  La  Guimard,  p.  254. 

'  He  was  the  son  of  a  musician  of  the  Opera,  and  was  born  on  August  31, 
1746.  He  became  a  dancer  at  the  theatre  in  1764,  where  he  quickly 
distinguished  himself  by  his  skill  in  "  la  danse  haute,'"  his  performances  in  the 
ballets  introduced  into  Les  Amours  de  Ragonde  (1773),  Iphigenie  en  Aulide 
(1774),  Philemon  et  Baucis  (1774),  ^""^  ^^  Cercheuse  d'esprit  (1778),  being 
particularly  admired.  In  1781,  owing  to  an  injury  to  one  of  his  feet,  he 
retired  from  the  active  exercise  of  his  profession,  and  was  appointed  maitre 
des  ballets.  In  the  following  year,  he  received  from  the  King  a  pension  of 
1500  livres,  for  his  services  as  a  dancer  in  ballets  represented  before  the 
Court.  A  facile  and  graceful  poet,  Despr^aux  was  the  author  of  several 
parodies  of  operas :  Christophe  et  Pierre  Luc,  parody  of  Castor  et  Pollux  ; 
Momi,  parody  of  Iphigenie  ;  Syncope,  reine  de  Mic-Mac,  parody  of  PenelopCy 
and  Berlingue,  parody  of  Ernelinde,  which  so  pleased  Louis  XVI.  when 
played  before  the  Court,  at  Choisy,  in  1777,  that  he  granted  the  author  a 
pension. — Campardon,  Academie  royale  de  Musique  au  XV IIP  sihle,  i.  146. 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  137 

church  of  Saintc-Marle  du  Temple,  the  age  of  the  bride 
being  forty-six  and  that  of  her  husband  thirty-one. 
The  acte  de  mariage,  cited  by  Jal,  states  that  the  two 
had  received  the  nuptial  benediction,  "  after  having 
renounced  their  profession,"  and,  to  the  great  sorrow 
of  her  countless  admirers,  the  Opera  knew  Madeleine 
Guimard  no  more. 

It  is  not  altogether  easy  to  determine  the  reasons 
which  induced  Mile.  Guimard  to  take  this  step  ;  a  step 
which,  as  we  have  mentioned,  entailed  the  renunciation 
of  her  profession.  Certainly  it  could  not  have  been 
any  interested  motive,  since  Despreaux  was  in  far  from 
affluent  circumstances,  while  the  danseuse  was  in  posses- 
sion of  a  comfortable  little  fortune,  as  fortunes  went, 
in  theatrical  circles,  in  those  days.^  Nor  is  it  at  all 
likely  that  she  was  consumed  with  any  very  violent 
passion  for  the  dancing-master,  who,  on  his  own  confession, 
was  insignificant  of  figure  and  remarkably  plain  of  face.^ 
The  probability  is  that  she  was  by  this  time  heartily 

^  The  marriage  contract  states  that  the  property  of  the  bride  consisted 
of  (i)  an  annuity  of  12,000  livres  ;  (2)  a  pension  of  2600  livres  on  the  King's 
Privy  Purse ;  (3)  a  pension  of  6000  livres  on  the  Royal  Treasury ;  (4)  a 
pension  of  3000  livres  on  the  treasury  of  the  Opera  ;  (5)  a  sum  of  1 10,000 
livres,  partly  in  cash  and  partly  in  furniture,  jewellery,  linen,  and  wearing 
apparel. 

'  In  a  manuscript  collection  of  his  chansons  preserved  in  the  Biblio- 
thique  de  V  Opera,  he  describes  himself  in  the  following  terms  : 

"  II  faut  que  je  vous  designe 
De  ma  taille  la  grandeur  : 
Cinq  pieds,  trois  pouces,  neuf  lignes, 
VoiU  juste  ma  hauteur. 
Large  front,  bouche  moyenne, 
Menton  pointu,  le  nez  long, 
Les  yeui  gris,  figure  pleine, 
Sourcils  bruns,  cheveui  blonds.'*  _,  > 


138  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

tired  of  the  stage  and  of  a  life  of  gallantry,  and  desired 
to  spend  the  remainder  of  her  days  in  retirement  and  the 
odour  of  sanctity,  with  a  man  who,  if  he  had  no  physical 
attractions  to  boast  of,  "  possessed  all  the  little  agreeable 
talents  calculated  to  assure  the  affection  of  a  woman 
of  pleasure  whose  youth  was  dead."  ^ 

However  that  may  be,  the  menage  appears  to  have 
been  a  happy  one,  and  that  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  the  danseuse  and  her  husband  were  very  far  from 
enjoying  the  life  of  comfort  and  tranquillity  to  which  they 
had  looked  forward.  For  the  Revolution  had  begun  ; 
and  the  Revolution  meant  to  themselves  and  hundreds 
of  other  pensioners  of  the  State  an  abrupt  descent  from 
comparative  affluence  to  poverty.  Their  circumstances 
were,  of  course,  superior  to  most  of  their  colleagues,  as 
Madeleine  Guimard  had  saved  money,  a  very  small  pro- 
portion, it  is  true,  of  the  enormous  sums  which  had 
passed  through  her  hands,  but  still  sufficient  to  save  them 
from  actual  want. 

When,  in  1792,  the  municipality  entrusted  the 
management  of  the  Opera  to  Celerier  and  Francceur, 
Despreaux  was  nominated  by  them  a  member  of  the 
administrative  council  and  stage-manager.  These  posts 
would  have  more  than  compensated  him  for  the  loss  of 
his  pensions,  but,  unfortunately,  the  directors  were  shortly 
afterwards  accused  of  embezzlement  and  arrested;  and 
in  September  1793,  Despreaux,  perhaps  fearful  of 
sharing  their  fate,  resigned. 

He  and  his  wife  now  retired  to  a  little  house  on  the 

summit  of  Montmartre,  to  reach  which,  he  tells  us,  it 

was  necessary  to  traverse  a  road  so  steep  that  the  Jacobin 

patrols  neglected  to  ascend  it,  and  they  were,  in  conse- 

*  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  La  Guimard,  p.  276. 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  139 

quence,  left  undisturbed.  Here  they  appeared  to  have 
lived  for  some  three  years,  and  it  was  here  that  Des- 
preaux  composed  most  of  the  poems  which  he  published 
later,  under  the  title  of  Mes  Passe-Temps.  "  I  composed 
these  chansons^''  he  says,  "  to  find  some  distraction  from 
the  terrible  evils  that  beset  us,  and  as  a  little  surprise 
for  my  wife,  whom  I  adored."  ^ 

Notwithstanding  the  disparity  in  years  between  them, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Despreaux  was  devoted  to 
his  wife,  and  in  a  poetical  "  bouquet^''  entitled  Vn  Bon 
Menage.,  published  in  1806,  he  informs  the  world  of  the 
profound  happiness  which  he  has  found  in  his  union  with 
the  danseuse  : 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Ah  !  inon  Dieu  !   combien  j'etais  fou  ! 
Je  redoutais  le  mariage  ; 
Et  j'avais  lu,  je  ne  sais  ou  ; 
*  Le  bonheur  n'est  pas  en  manage.' 
Erreur  !  ta  bont^,  ta  raison 
M'ont  enfin  prouv6  le  contraire, 
Et  je  vois,  dans  I'heureux  gar9on 
L'heureux  imaginaire  (bis), 

Magdelaine  aime  ma  gait(^ 
Et  moi  sa  tournure  m'enchante, 
Elle  fait  ma  fdlicite 
Elle  est  en  verite,  charmante  ! 
Elle  prouve  depuis  vingt  ans 
Par  sa  grdce  qui  m'est  si  chere, 
Qu'on  a  I'art  d'arreter  le  temps, 
Quand  on  a  I'art  de  plaire  (^z^)." 

In  1807,  Despreaux  was  appointed  inspector  of  the 
theatres    of    the    Opera    and    the    Tuileries.      Having 
religiously  preserved  the  traditions  of  the  ancient  Court, 
^  A.  T.Didot,  Souvenirs  de  Jean  Etiemie  Drespr faux,  p.  34. 


I40  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

he  was  often  consulted  in  regard  to  the  ceremonial  to 
be  observed  at  the  f6tes  of  the  new  Court  of  Napoleon. 
He  became,  in  fact,  a  kind  of  unofficial  master  of  the 
ceremonies,  and,  in  this  capacity,  assisted  at  all  the  solemn 
functions  of  the  Empire,  notably  at  the  marriage  of 
Napoleon  and  Marie  Louise,  of  which  event  he  has  left 
an  interesting  account  in  his  Souvenirs.  When  the 
Empire  fell,  he  found  himself  out  of  employment ;  but 
in  1 815  received  the  appointments  of  inspector-general 
of  Court  entertainments  and  professor  of  dancing  and 
deportment  at  the  Ecole  Royale  de  Musique. 

The  menage  Despreaux-Guimard  resided,  in  these  last 
years,  in  the  Rue  de  Menars,  where  the  ex-danseuse  sur- 
rounded herself  with  a  large  circle  of  friends.  Often  the 
conversation  turned  on  the  past  triumphs  of  Mile. 
Guimard,  when  the  younger  members  of  the  company 
would  express  their  regret  that  it  was  impossible  for 
them  to  form  an  idea  of  that  marvellous  talent  which, 
for  a  whole  generation,  had  so  enchanted  the  patrons 
of  the  Opera,  and  would  beg  their  hostess  to  give  them 
a  few  steps  of  the  ballets  in  which  she  had  achieved 
her  greatest  successes.  At  first,  the  ballerina  refused, 
on  the  score  of  her  age  and  the  decline  of  her  physical 
powers.  But  the  ingenious  Despreaux  erected  in  the 
salon  a  theatre,  the  curtain  of  which  was  so  arranged  as  to 
reveal  only  the  knee  and  the  legs  of  the  actors.  And  here 
he  and  his  wife,  concealing  thus  all  the  ravages  that  time 
had  wrought  upon  face  and  figure,  danced  with  legs  and 
feet  which  seemed  to  the  delighted  spectators  to  have 
preserved  all  the  grace  and  suppleness  of  youth. 

Later,  when  increasing  years  and  feeble  health  had 
caused  her  to  retire  altogether  from  society,  if  one  of 
the  few  intimate  friends  who  were  still  admitted  to  the 


MADEMOISELLE  GUIMARD  141 

house  happened  to  refer  to  her  glorious  past  at  the 
Opera,  the  old  artiste  would  sometimes  offer  to  amuse 
her  visitors  with  what  she  called  her  theatre.  With  that, 
she  would  draw  from  under  her  fauteuil  a  little  drum, 
which  she  would  place  between  her  feet  on  a  foot-stool. 
Then  she  would  join  two  of  her  fingers,  bow,  lift  the 
curtain,  announce  some  ballet,  and,  by  a  marvel  of 
memory  and  agility  of  hand,  dance  with  her  two  fingers 
all  the  steps  of  this  ballet — her  own  steps,  and  the  steps 
of  those  who  preceded,  and  of  those  who  had  doubled  her — 
with  such  correctness  as  to  make  her  audience  appreciate 
the  superiority  of  her  own  dancing.^ 

On  May  4,  18 16,  Madeleine  Guimard — or  rather 
Madame  Despreaux — died  at  the  age  of  seventy-three ; 
the  death  of  the  famous  danseuse  of  the  eighteenth  century 
passing  almost  unnoticed  in  this  Paris  of  the  Restoration, 
which  seemed  to  have  already  forgotten  her  dazzling 
triumphs  of  yesterday. 

^  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  La  Guimard,  p.  301. 


Ill 

MADEMOISELLE   RAUCOURT 


Ill 

MADEMOISELLE   RAUCOURT 

Several  versions  have  at  different  times  been  current 
in  regard  to  the  origin  of  Mile.  Raucourt.  According 
to  the  one  which,  until  comparatively  recent  years,  found 
almost  general  acceptance,  her  baptismal  name  was 
Fran^oise  Marie  Antoinette  Clairien  ;  she  was  born  at 
Dombasle,  on  November  29,  1753,  and  was  the  daughter 
of  "  a  poor  barber  overwhelmed  with  children,"  who 
consigned  her  to  the  care  of  the  village  postmaster,  a 
person  called  Francois  Saucerotte,  by  whom  she  was 
adopted.^  That  a  child  of  that  name  was  born  at 
Dombasle,  on  the  above-mentioned  date,  is  true  enough  ; 
but  she  was  not  the  future  tragedienne.  The  actress  in 
question  was  born  in  Paris,  on  March  3,  1756  ;  Francois 
Saucerotte  was  her  own,  and  not  her  adopted,  father, 
and  she  was  baptized  at  the  church  of  Saint-Severin, 
by  the  name  of  Marie  Antoinette  Joseph,  as  witness  the 
acte  de  naissance^  given  by  Auguste  Jal,  in  his  invaluable 
Dictionnaire  de  Biographie  et  d^Histoire  : 

"Wednesday,    March    3,     1756. — Marie    Antoinette 
Joseph,   born  to-day,   daughter  of   Francois   Saucerotte, 

^  Among  the  writers  who  have  fallen  into  this  error  may  be  mentioned  : 
Lemazurier  {Galerie  historique  des  acteurs  du  Thedtre-Fran^aii),  M.  de 
Manne  (Galerie  historique  de  la  troupe  de  Voltaire  and  Biographie  generals  : 
Article,  "  Raucourt "),  Emile  Gaboriau  (Les  Comediennes  adorees),  Mr. 
Sutherland  Edwards  ("  Idols  of  the  French  Stage  "),  and  Mr.  Frederick 
Hawkins  ("  The  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteenth  Century  "). 


146  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

bourgeois  of  Paris,  and  of  Antoinette  de  la  Porte,  his  wife, 
residing  Rue  de  Vieille-Bouclerie.  The  godfather  was 
Julien  Merel,  labourer,  the  godmother.  Marguerite 
Lancelin,  fllle  majeure,  both  residing  Rue  du  Bac.  The 
godmother  has  declared  herself  unable  to  sign  her  name. 
(Signed)  Merel,  Saucerotte." 

What  occupation  was  followed  by  Frangois  Saucerotte 
at  the  time  of  his  daughter's  birth  is  uncertain — bourgeois 
de  Paris  being  a  trifle  indefinite.  But,  a  few  years 
later,  he  was  seized  with  an  ambition  to  become  an  actor 
and,  accordingly,  applied  for  and  obtained  an  ordre  de 
debut  at  the  Comedie-Frangaise,  where  he  appeared  under 
the  name  of  Raucourt.  The  debut,  however,  was  not  a 
success  ;  and  the  pit  intimated  its  sense  of  M.  Raucourt's 
shortcomings  in  so  unmistakable  a  manner  that,  after 
his  second  appearance,  that  gentleman  prudently  decided 
to  seek  fame  and  fortune  before  a  less  critical  audience. 
He  accordingly  retired  to  the  provinces,  and  from  thence 
migrated  to  Spain,  as  a  member  of  a  French  travelling 
company,  taking  his  little  daughter  with  him.  The 
latter,  who  early  decided  to  follow  her  father's  profession, 
amply  atoned  for  any  lack  of  ability  on  his  part,  and  showed 
such  extraordinary  precocity  that  at  the  age  of  twelve 
she  was  already  playing  with  success  in  several  tragedy 
parts. 

From  Spain  the  Raucourts — to  give  them  the  name 
by  which  they  were  henceforth  known — appear  to  have 
journeyed  to  St.  Petersburg  ;  but,  towards  the  end  of 
the  year  1770,  returned  to  France,  where  the  girl  obtained 
an  engagement  at  Rouen,  the  conservatoire  of  the  Paris 
theatres.  Here  she  acted  with  such  success,  notably 
as  Euphemie  in  De  Belloy's  Gaston  et  Bayard,  that  the 
fame   of  her   talent  soon  reached  the  capital  and  she 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  147 

received  an  order  from  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber 
to  make  her  debut  at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise. 

Mile.  Raucourt  and  her  father  arrived  in  Paris  in 
the  spring  of  1772,  where  they  rented  a  modest  apart- 
ment in  the  Rue  Saint-Jacques,  for  though  rich  in  hopes, 
their  purses  were  light.  Provincial  players  in  those  days 
gained  abundant  experience,  but  very  little  money. 

The  young  actress's  first  appearance  at  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise  was  preceded  by  some  months  of  study,  under 
the  direction  of  Brizard,  who  was  as  excellent  a  teacher 
as  he  was  an  actor,  and,  delighted  with  his  pupil's  intel- 
ligence and  industry,  did  not  rest  content  until  he 
had  taught  her  everything  he  knew.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  weeks,  she  is  said  to  have  mastered  no  less 
than  nineteen  important  tragedy  parts.  From  Brizard's 
hands,  and  at  his  suggestion,  she  passed  to  those  of  Mile. 
Clairon  ;  and  the  celebrated  tragedienne,  partly  out  of 
a  real  liking  for  the  girl  and  partly  out  of  a  desire  to  set 
up  a  rival  to  Madame  Vestris,  with  whom  her  relations 
were  at  that  time  very  strained,  spared  no  pains  to  put 
the  finishing  touch  to  the  actor's  work.^ 

At  length,  towards  the  end  of  the  year,  Mile.  Raucourt 
was    deemed   worthy   to    challenge    the   verdict    of   the 

^  Mile.  Clairon  subsequently  wrote  to  Larive  :  "  Mile.  Raucourt  has 
made  her  debut  with  the  greatest  success.  All  Paris  dotes  on  her,  and, 
although  Brizard  may  be  her  only  recognised  master,  people  name,  at  each 
verse  which  they  hear  her  utter,  the  person  of  whom  she  has  taken  lessons . 
She  is  only  sixteen  and  a  half ;  she  is  beautiful  as  an  angel,  sensible,  noble. 
She  will  be,  I  hope,  a  charming  subject,  and  I  dare  believe  that  Madame 
Vestris  will  gnaw  her  fingers,  more  than  once,  at  having  disobliged  me.  .  .  . 
This  woman  is  the  first  person  whom  I  have  really  hated.  Mile.  Raucourt 
is  worthy  of  all  the  pains  that  I  am  taking  to  form  her,  but  I  confess  that  I 
find  it  very  sweet,  while  serving  her,  to  avenge  myself  for  all  the  ingratitude 
and  insolence  of  the  other."  Cited  by  Edmoud  de  Goncourt,  Mademoiselle 
Clairon,  p.  285. 


148  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Parisians,  and,  on  December  23,  1772,  she  made  her 
debut,  as  Dido,  in  Le  Franc  de  Pompignan's  famous 
tragedy,  being  then  within  rather  more  than  two  months 
of  completing  her  seventeenth  year. 

And  what  a  debut  it  was  !     Never  in  the  whole  history 
of  the  theatre  had  so  young  an  actress  secured  so  brilliant, 
so    extraordinary,    a    triumph.     "  Before    the    tragedy 
began,"  says  Grimm,   "  Brizard  himself  harangued  the 
pit,  demanded  its  indulgence  for  a  budding  talent,  and 
assured  it  that  his  pupil,  formed  by  the  criticisms  of  the 
public,  would  one  day  be  its  work.     The  pit,  which  loves 
to  the  point  of  folly  actors  to  address  it,  particularly  when 
they  call  it  the  arbiter  of  tastes  and  of  talents,  warmly 
applauded  the  harangue  of  Achates  Brizard.^     But  when 
it  beheld  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  noble  creature 
in  the  world  advance,  in  the  character  of  Dido,  to  the 
edge  of  the  stage  ;    when  it  heard  the  sweetest,  the  most 
flexible,   the   most  harmonious,   the   most  impressive  of 
voices ;  when  it  remarked  a  style  of  acting  full  of  dignity, 
intelligence,   and   the   most  subtle   and  delicate   shades, 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  public  knew  no  bounds.     They 
raised  cries  of  admiration  and  applause  ;    they  involun- 
tarily   embraced    one    another ;     they    were    perfectly 
intoxicated.     When   the  play  was  over,  the  enthusiasm 
spread  to  their  houses.     Those  who  had  been  present 
at  Didon  dispersed  to  their  various  quarters,  arrived  like 
men  demented,  spoke  with  transports  of  the  debutante, 
communicated  their  enthusiasm  to  those  who  had  not 
seen  her,  and  at  every  supper-table  in  Paris  nothing  was 
heard  save  the  name  of  Raucourt."  ^ 

Mile.    Raucourt   had   risen   that   morning   unknown, 

^  Brizard  played  the  part  of  fldus  Achates  in  Didon. 

*  Corresfondance  litUraire,  Supplementary  volume,  p.  352.  ^^ 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  149 

at  least  so  far  as  Paris  was  concerned  ;  she  retired  to  bed 
a  celebrity,  the  idol  of  the  playgoing  public.  All  the 
gazettes,  all  the  journals,  all  the  correspondence  of  the 
time,  resounded  with  her  praises.  "  Nature,"  wrote  the 
dramatic  critic  of  the  Mercure,  "  appears  to  have  lavished 
its  gifts  upon  her  :  she  is  beautiful,  she  is  impressive  in 
all  her  roles,  she  possesses  a  kind  of  innate  aptitude  for 
tragedy,  and  the  most  triumphant  means  of  giving  ex- 
pression to  its  energy,  its  sentiment,  and  its  passion  ;  a 
voice  flexible,  sonorous,  and  well-modulated  ;  a  physiog- 
nomy which  depicts  the  affections  of  the  heart  in  all 
their  variations  ;  a  look  eloquent  and  expressive,  the  art 
of  speaking  to  the  eyes  and  of  investing  her  by-play  with 
interest.  This  young  actress  has  received  everything 
from  beneficent  Nature,  and  study  and  experience  have 
had  little  to  do  with  perfecting  and  completing  her 
talents."  ^  Grimm  predicted  that  she  would  be  the 
"  gloire  immortelle "  of  the  French  stage.  Another 
critic  declared  the  annihilation  of  the  British  fleet  alone 
could  have  aroused  a  deeper  enthusiasm  than  her  acting  ; 
while  the  Memoires  secrets  hailed  her  as  a  veritable 
prodigy  :  "  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  sensation  she 
has  created  ;  nothing  like  it  has  been  seen  within  the 
memory  of  living  man.  She  is  only  sixteen  and  a  half  ; 
she  is  a  study  for  a  painter.  She  has  the  most  noble,  the 
most  dramatic  face,  the  most  enchanting  voice,  a  pro- 
digious intelligence  ;  she  did  not  make  a  single  false 
intonation.  Throughout  the  whole  of  her  very  difficult 
part,  she  did  not  commit  the  slightest  error,  not  even 
an  inappropriate  gesture.  A  little  stiffness  and  embarrass- 
ment in  the  movements  of  her  arms  is  the  only  fault 
people  have  been  able  to  find  in  her."  ^ 

'  Mercure  de  France,  January  1773.  *  Memoires  secrets,  vi.  288. 


ISO  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Let  us  here  remark  that  all  this  eulogy  was  very  far 
from  being  deserved,  and  that  the  critics  ere  long  found 
reason  to  modify  their  enthusiasm.  Mile.  Raucourt 
was  unquestionably  a  very  handsome  girl,  and  certainly 
possessed  many  of  the  qualities  attributed  to  her  by  her 
admirers ;  but  she  never  attained  anything  like  the 
standard  of  excellence  of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  or  Mile. 
Dumesnil,  or  Mile.  Clairon.  "  With  a  little  sensibility," 
remarks  one  of  her  colleagues  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise, 
"  she  might  have  been  the  greatest  of  tragediennes ; 
but  that  quality,  so  invaluable  on  the  stage,  was  wanting." 
She  was  wanting  also  in  versatility  ;  her  acting  was,  so 
to  speak,  all  of  a  piece  ;  she  sinned  in  excess  of  force  and 
energy,  and  never  mastered  the  art  of  varying  her  in- 
tonations, what  Mile.  Clairon  called  "  the  eloquence  of 
sounds."  No  one  knew  better  than  did  she  how  to  give 
expression  to  the  great  passions  :  hatred,  jealousy, 
revenge.  She  was  admirable  in  the  Agrippine  of  Britan- 
nicus,  inimitable  in  the  Jocaste  of  CEdipe.  But  the  more 
human,  the  more  tender  passions  :  pity,  tenderness, 
love,  were  unknown  to  her.  Thus  her  rendering  of 
Phedre,  the  greatest  character  of  the  classic  repertoire, 
was  never  more  than  moderately  successful,  and  compared 
very  unfavourably  with  that  of  Mile.  Dumesnil.^ 

However,  the  public  having  with  one  accord  decided 
to  place  the  new  actress  on  a  pedestal  and  fall  down 
before  her,  was,  for  the  time  being,  blind  to  her  short- 
comings. Its  enthusiasm  increased  with  each  perform- 
ance, until  it  reached  a  veritable  frenzy.  On  the  days 
on  which  she  was  to  appear,  the  box-office  of  the  theatre 
was  literally  besieged  from  an  early  hour  in  the  morning. 

'  Gaboriau,  Lcs  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  73.     Manne,  Galerie  historique 
de  la  troufe  de  Voltaire, 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  151 

Servants  sent  hy  their  employers  to  secure  places  dis- 
charged their  mission  at  the  risk  of  their  lives ;  several 
were  carried  away  in  an  unconscious  state,  and  one  is  said 
to  have  died,  as  the  result  of  the  injuries  he  received. 
Tickets  for  the  pit,  costing  twenty-four  sous,  were  sold 
for  nine  or  ten  francs  apiece,  in  the  court  of  theTuileries, 
by  persons  who  had  been  intrepid  enough  to  secure  them  ; 
the  prices  of  the  other  places  rising  in  the  same  proportion. 
The  days  of  the  Rue  Quincampoix  seemed  to  have 
returned. 

When  the  time  for  the  performance  drew  near, 
the  scene  almost  baffled  description.  All  the  approaches 
to  the  Comedie-Frangaise  were  so  blocked  with  people 
that  the  actors  themselves  could  with  difficulty  persuade 
their  excited  patrons  to  make  way  for  them.  An  enor- 
mous crowd  surged  round  the  theatre,  forced  the  doors, 
and  struggled  and  fought  for  the  best  places  in  the  pit. 
Those  who,  by  good  fortune  or  superior  physical  strength, 
emerged  triumphant  from  the  melee,  arrived  panting  for 
breath,  with  their  clothes  nearly  torn  from  their  backs, 
dishevelled  hair,  and  faces  streaming  with  perspiration. 
"  Do  you  think,"  inquired  an  old  lady,  in  Grimm's 
hearing,  one  evening,  "  that  if  it  had  been  a  question  of 
saving  their  country,  these  people  would  have  exposed 
themselves  like  this  ?  " 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  town  spread  to  the  Court, 
and,  on  January  5,  the  new  actress  was  commanded  to 
appear  at  Versailles,  where  she  seems  to  have  created  a 
similar  sensation.  Louis  XV.,  despite  his  indifference 
to  tragedy,  sat  out  Didon  to  the  end,  sent  for  Mile. 
Raucourt  and,  after  warmly  complimenting  her,  presented 
her  to  the  Dauphiness,  as  the  Queen  of  Carthage.  He 
also  made  her  a  present  of  fifty  louis,  and  gave  orders 


152  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

that  she  should  be  received  as  a  member  of  the  Comedie 
without  being  required  to  give  any  further  proofs  of  her 
talent.  Madame  du  Barry  hastened  to  follow  his  Maj  esty's 
example,  and  offered  the  young  actress  the  choice  of 
three  dresses  for  her  private  use,  or  a  robe  de  theatre. 
To  which  the  girl  replied  that  she  would  prefer  the  stage 
costume,  "  since,  in  that  case,  the  public  would  profit  by 
Madame  la  Comtesse's  goodness  as  well  as  herself."  ^ 

After  appearing  four  times  in  Didon,  Mile.  Raucourt 
played  the  parts  of  Emilie,  in  Cinna,  Monime,  in  Mith- 
ridate,  Idame,  in  Voltaire's  Orfhelin  de  la  Chine ^  Hermione, 
in  Andromaque,  and,  finally,  that  of  Pulcherie,  in  Herac- 
litus,  in  all  of  which  roles,  Grimm  tells  us,  "  she  showed 
the  happiest  dispositions  and  announced  the  greatest 
talents."  The  furore  she  excited,  so  far  from  diminish- 
ing, continued  to  increase,  and  not  a  day  passed  without 
some  persons  being  more  or  less  seriously  injured  in  the 
struggle  at  the  doors  of  the  theatre.  The  climax  of 
absurdity  seems  to  have  been  reached  a  few  evenings 
after  her  visit  to  Versailles,  when  her  admirers  in  the 
pit  clamoured  for  "  a  benefit  performance  for  the  new 
actress,"  and  refused  to  allow  the  play  to  proceed  until 
the  management  had  announced  their  willingness  to 
accede  to  their  patrons'  wishes,  provided  the  Gentlemen 
of  the  Chamber  would  accord  them  permission. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  triumphs  of  Mile.  Raucourt, 
the  ovations  of  which  she  was  every  evening  the  recipient, 
had  begun  to  arouse  the  alarm  and  jealousy  of  her  col- 

'  Grimm  writes  :  "  The  Princesse  de  Bcauvau,  the  Princesse  de  Gueme- 
nee,  and  the  Duchessc  de  laVallicre  have  also  made  her  presents  of  superb 
dresses.  The  greater  part  of  those  which  the  ladies  of  the  Court  had  had 
made  for  the  Dauphin's  marriage  will  go  to  enrich  the  theatrical  wardrobe 
of  Mile.  Raucourt,  which  will  soon  be  of  considerable  size." 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  153 

leagues.  The  two  leading  actresses  of  the  company, 
Madame  Vestris  and  Mile.  Sainval  the  elder,^  had  been 
for  some  time  mortal  enemies ;  but,  in  the  presence  of 
this  newcomer,  who  had  in  a  single  night  relegated  them 
both  to  secondary  places  in  the  affections  of  the  fickle 
public,  they  recognised  the  wisdom  of  forgetting  their 
differences  for  the  nonce  and  making  common  cause 
against  the  interloper.  They  organised  a  cabal  ;  they 
filled  the  pit  with  their  personal  friends  and  with  hired 
agents,  instructed  to  interrupt  the  finest  tirades  of  Mile. 
Raucourt  with  jeers  and  hisses,  and,  behind  the  scenes, 
they  did  everything  in  their  power  to  render  their  young 
rival's  life  a  burden  to  her.  Their  intrigues  were  fruit- 
less, nay  more,  they  recoiled  upon  their  own  heads. 
The  voices  of  the  malcontents  were  drowned  in  the  bursts 
of  applause,  which  increased  in  volume  and  frequency 
the  moment  it  became  known  that  an  opposition  was  at 
work.  So  indignant  were  the  audience  that  any  short- 
comings on  the  part  of  its  idol  were  at  once  attributed 
to  the  machinations  of  her  jealous  rivals.  One  evening, 
when  playing  Monime,  she  forgot  her  part.  "  It  is  all 
the  fault  of  those  Sainvals,"  said  the  indignant  •parterre. 
On  another,  a  cat  happened  to  stray  on  to  the  stage 
and  interrupted  the  performance  with  plaintive  cries. 
"  I  will  wager  that  that  cat  belongs  to  Madame  Vestris  !  '* 
cried  a  wag  in  the  pit ;  and  the  sally  was  followed  by  a 
roar  of  derisive  laughter.^  The  intriguers  found  them- 
selves covered  with  ridicule  ;  while  Mile.  Raucourt's 
position  grew  stronger  every  day. 

The    extraordinary    popularity    of    Mile.    Raucourt 

^  The  name  is  frequently  written  Saint- Val. 
*  Memoires  secrets,  vi.  p.  297. 


154  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

with  the  playgoing  public  was  enhanced  by  an  unsullied 
reputation  off  the  stage.  "  I  understand,"  writes  Grimm, 
"  that  this  charming  creature,  so  imposing  on  the  stage, 
is  very  simple  in  private  life  ;  that  she  has  all  the  candour 
and  innocence  of  her  age,  and  occupies  with  girlish 
amusements  the  time  not  set  apart  for  study.  Many 
dissertations  have  been  written  with  the  view  of  discover- 
ing metaphysically  by  what  power  a  girl  so  young  and 
innocent  can  represent  with  so  much  power  on  the  stage 
the  transports  and  the  fury  of  love."  He  adds  that  so 
determined  was  her  father  to  defend  her  chastity  that 
he  invariably  carried  two  loaded  pistols  "  in  order  to 
blow  out  the  brains  of  the  first  who  should  make  an 
attempt  on  the  virtue  of  his  daughter."  ^ 

M.  Raucourt  indeed  followed  his  talented  daughter 
about  like  her  shadow  ;  to  the  theatre,  on  her  shopping 
expeditions,  to  the  private  houses  to  which  she  was 
invited.  During  the  performances,  he  mounted  sentinel 
in  the  wings,  to  be  ready  to  place  himself  at  her  side 
the  moment  she  made  her  exit.  People  compared 
him  to  a  jealous  lover  keeping  watch  over  a  flighty 
mistress. 

All  these  precautions,  however,  were  quite  un- 
necessary. Mile.  Raucourt  was  virtuous,  or  rather  she 
was  virtue  itself.  "  In  vain  was  her  heart  besieged  like 
the  box-office  of  the  theatre  on  the  evenings  on  which 
she  was  to  appear  ;  in  vain  her  adorers  prostrated  them- 
selves before  her.  She  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  most 
brilliant  propositions  ;  she  repulsed  with  horror  the 
most  tempting  offers." 

Soon  the  virtue  of  Mile.  Raucourt  became  as  cele- 
brated as  her  talent ;  it  was  the  talk  of  the  town ;    the 

'  Corrcspondance  littcraire,  Supplementary  volume,  p.  356. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  155 

memoirs  and  correspondence  of  the  time  are  full  of  it. 
"  The  virtue  of  the  new  actress  still  keeps  up."  "  The 
virtue  of  the  new  actress  resists  the  numerous  assaults 
to  which  it  is  subjected."  "  The  new  actress  has  begun 
to  give  petits  soupers,  which,  it  is  hoped,  may  lead  to  what 
she  has  hitherto  escaped."     And  so  forth. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  the  young  woman  lacked 
encouragement  to  persevere  in  a  course  which,  for  an 
actress  in  those  days,  was  as  laudable  as  it  was  novel. 
Every  evening  the  theatre  resounded  with  acclamations, 
which  were  intended  to  be  as  much  a  tribute  to  her 
exemplary  conduct  as  to  her  beauty  and  talent.  Devout 
ladies  of  the  Court  vied  with  one  another  in  giving  her 
good  advice  and  in  enriching  her  wardrobe  ;  and  all 
manner  of  flattering  epithets  were  bestowed  upon  her. 
She  was  "  Jeanne  d'Arc  at  the  Comedie-Frangaise," 
"  the  Wise  Virgin  in  the  midst  of  the  foolish  ones," 
"  Diana  with  the  features  of  Venus." 

Nor  was  material  encouragement  wanting,  as  the 
following  anecdote  will  show  : 

"  January  20,  1773. — Mile.  Raucourt  continues  to 
create  the  greatest  sensation.  It  is  reported  that  the 
other  day  a  man  entered  her  dressing-room,  who  informed 
her  that  she  could  judge  from  his  age  and  his  appearance 
that  he  was  not  prompted  by  any  unlawful  motive,  but 
that  he  was  guided  solely  by  a  profound  sentiment  of 
admiration  for  her  talent ;  that  he  entreated  her  not 
to  be  offended  with  one  who,  in  his  enthusiasm,  desired 
to  give  her  proofs  of  his  esteem  by  a  little  tribute  which 
he  would  lay  upon  her  toilette-table  ;  and  forthwith 
deposited  there  two  rouleaux  of  one  hundred  louis  each." 
Mile.  Raucourt,  the  chronicler  adds,  graciously  replied 
that  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  refuse  a  gift  offered  in 


156  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

such  terms,  and  the  gentleman  departed,  without  making 
himself  known. ^ 

A  few  days  later,  the  lady  received  an  anonymous 
oflFer  of  12,000  francs  a  year, "  for  so  long  as  she  remained 
chaste."  The  writer  went  on  to  say  that  if  she  decided 
not  to  do  so,  and  would  grant  him  the  preference,  the 
pension  should  be  doubled.  The  Nouvelles  a  la  mairiy 
which  reports  this  incident,  informs  its  readers  that  it 
is  not  yet  known  which  offer  Mile.  Raucourt  had  decided 
to  accept ;  but  since  the  anonymous  "  benefactor " 
was  commonly  understood  to  be  none  other  than  a 
Prince  of  the  Blood,  the  Due  de  Bourbon  to  wit,  it  would 
be  scarcely  reasonable  to  expect  her  to  continue  inflexible. 

The  young  actress,  nevertheless,  would  accept  nothing 
from  the  duke,  and  her  refusal  placed  the  comble  upon 
her  fame.  Her  enemies  declared  that  she  must  be  "  not 
a  woman  at  all,  but  a  monster  "  ;  her  idolators  could 
find  no  words  in  which  to  express  their  admiration. 

Voltaire  was  the  first  to  besmirch  the  spotless  reputa- 
tion of  Mile.  Raucourt.  It  is  said  that  so  much  fuss 
about  the  virtue  of  an  actress  irritated  him,  and  that  he 
was  annoyed  because  the  girl's  successes  in  the  classic 
repertoire  had  caused  the  production  of  his  Lois  de 
Minos,  from  which  he  expected  great  things,  to  be  in- 
definitely postponed.  As,  however,  Voltaire,  with  all  his 
faults,  was  incapable  of  deliberately  slandering  a  woman, 
it  is  probable  that  he  acted  in  good  faith,  prompted 
by  a  desire  to  unmask  a  hypocrite.  Circumstance 
sometimes  obliged  the  Patriarch  to  play  the  hypocrite 
himself  ;  but  he  hated  hypocrisy  in  others  ;  and  the  news 
that  a  young  debutante,  solely  on  account  of  an  undeserved 
reputation  for  virtue,  was  being  exalted  above  his  beloved 

'  Mmoires  secrets. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  157 

Adriennc  Lecouvreur  and  his  favourite  interpreter, 
Mile.  Clairon,  may  well  have  filled  him  with  righteous 
indignation. 

However  that  may  be,  he  wrote  to  his  friend,  the 
Marechal  de  Richelieu,  that  he  was  informed,  on  excellent 
authority,  that,  while  in  Spain,  the  supposed  immaculate 
Raucourt  had  been  the  mistress  of  a  gentleman  from 
Geneva,  who  had  been  travelling  in  that  country. 

As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  when  the  letter  arrived. 
Mile.  Raucourt  was  dining  at  Richelieu's  house, 
chaperoned,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  observe,  by  her 
vigilant  father;  youngladies  who  valued  their  reputations 
did  not  go  unprotected  to  visit  that  evergreen  sinner. 
D'Alembert,  the  Princesse  de  Beauveau,  and  Mile. 
Clairon's  sometime  adorer,  the  Marquis  de  Ximenes, 
were  also  present.  As  every  one  was  anxious  to  know 
what  the  great  man  had  to  say,  Richelieu,  without 
opening  the  letter,  handed  it  to  Ximenes,  with  a  request 
that  he  would  read  it  to  the  company.  The  marquis 
complied,  and  proceeded  until  he  had  uttered  the  fatal 
sentence,  when  he  stopped  abruptly  and  began  mumbling 
apologies.  Terrible  was  the  commotion  which  ensued. 
Mile.  Raucourt  promptly  swooned  away ;  her  father 
drew  his  sword,  swearing  that  he  would  proceed  to  Ferney 
and  run  the  Patriarch  through  the  body  ;  the  Princesse 
de  Beauvau  called  the  maladroit  marquis  a  fool ;  while 
wicked  old  Richelieu,  we  may  presume,  looked  on  choking 
with  suppressed  mirth. 

On  the  morrow,  the  story  was  all  over  Paris.  The 
first  feeling  was  one  of  incredulity — people  are  always 
slow  to  believe  that  idols  of  their  own  creation  have  feet 
of  clay — and  both  Court  and  town  took  the  side  of  the 
outraged  actress,  and  declared  that  she  had  been  grossly 


158  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

calumniated.  D'Alembert  reported  the  scene  at  the 
marshal's  house,  and  the  feeling  which  his  accusation 
had  aroused,  to  Voltaire,  who,  perhaps  alarmed  for  the 
future  reception  of  his  tragedies,  hastened  to  pour  the 
balm  of  his  flattery  upon  the  wound  which  he  had  in- 
flicted:  "  I  am  the  aged^son,  and  you  the  enchantress 
Medea."  "  I  have  scarcely  left  to  me  eyes  to  see,  a  soul  to 
admire,  a  hand  to  write  to  you."     And  then  he  breaks  forth 

into  verse  : 

"  Raucourt,  tes  talents  enchanteurs 

Chaque  jour  te  font  des  conquetes, 

Tu  fais  soupirer  tous  les  coeurs, 

Tu  fais  tourner  toutes  les  tetes. 

•  •  •  •  • 

r 

L'art  d'attendrir  et  de  charmer 

A  pare  ta  brillante  aurore, 

Mais  ton  cceur  est  fait  pour  aimer, 

Et  ce  coeur  ne  dit  rien  encore." 

But  the  mischief  was  done  :  no  amount  of  epistles 
or  madrigals  could  repair  it.  Gradually  people  began 
to  think  that  there  might  have  been  more  truth  in  the 
story  about  the  Genevese  lover  than  they  had  at  first 
supposed  ;  Voltaire,  they  reflected,  lived  close  to  Geneva, 
and  was  probably  well  informed.  Mile.  Raucourt's 
many  adorers  took  courage  ;  they  redoubled  their  atten- 
tions ;  they  refused  any  longer  to  believe  her  indignant 
protestations.  Nothing,  as  the  actor  Fleury  observes, 
is  more  dangerous  to  virtue  than  such  incredulity,  nothing 
more  disheartening  than  to  make  sacrifices  in  which  the 
world  does  not  believe.  Whether  Voltaire's  accusation 
was  true  or  not,  certain  it  is  that  Mile.  Raucourt  ere  long 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  had  made  sacrifices 
enough,  and  one  fine  day  the  town  "  learned  with  stupe- 
faction "  that  at  Compi^gne,  where  the  troupe  of  the 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  159 

Comedie-Fran^aisc  was  giving  a  series  of  performances 
before  the  Court,  the  impregnable  virtue  of  its  idol  had 
at  length  succumbed. 

It  was  at  first  reported  that  the  fortress  had  sur- 
rendered to  no  less  a  person  than  the  King  himself,  "  No 
one  expected  this  dehut^"^  writes  a  Parisian  staying  at 
Compicgne,  "  which  is  not  likely  to  meet  with  the  success 
of  Didon.  But  she  has  an  excuse.  What  woman  can 
resist  her  King  ?  " 

Soon,  however,  this  rumour  was  contradicted.  It 
was  not  his  Most  Christian  Majesty,  but  his  Prime 
Minister,  the  Due  d'Aiguillon,  who  had  triumphed  over 
the  resistance  of  the  lady.  A  more  unfortunate  choice 
for  an  actress  who  wished  to  retain  her  popularity  with 
the  Parisians  could  not  have  been  made.  Next  to  the 
Chancellor,  Maupeou,  and  the  Comptroller-General, 
the  Abbe  Terrai,  d'Aiguillon  was  the  best-hated  man 
in  France. 

Mile.  Raucourt's  intimacy  with  the  Minister  lasted 
but  a  very  short  time  ;  it  was  merely  a  galanterie.  But, 
in  March  1774,  we  learn  that  she  is  living  openly  under 
the  protection  of  the  Marquis  de  Bi^vre,  a  young  officer 
of  Musketeers,  with  some  literary  pretensions,^  who  had 
paid  her  debts,  amounting,  it  was  said,  to  40,000  livres, 
made  a  settlement  upon  her,  and  allowed  her  a  handsome 
sum  per  month,  for  current  expenses. 

The  once  modest  and  retiring  young  actress,  as  if 
resolved  to  atone  for  the  strict  decorum  she  had  formerly 
imposed  upon  herself,  now  lived  a  life  of  the  utmost 
luxury  and  extravagance.  She  had  ten  or  twelve  horses 
in   her   stables,   rented   two   or   three   houses,   and   kept 

'  He  was  tlic  autlior  of  a  highly  successful  comedy,  called  Le  SeducUur, 
produced  at  the  Coniedic-Fran9aisc,  November  8,  1783. 


i6o  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

fifteen  servants,  while  her  toilettes  were  the  envy  and 
despair  of  all  feminine  Paris.  On  Good  Friday,  she 
drove  to  the  Abbey  of  Longchamps,  in  the  train  of  Mile. 
Duthe  and  Mile.  Cleophile,  the  inamorata  of  the  Spanish 
Ambassador,  two  of  the  most  extravagant  courtesans 
of  the  time,  "  in  a  pompous  equipage  drawn  by  four 
horses."  "  The  carriage  was  of  an  apple-green  colour, 
encrusted  with  different  coloured  stones,  the  mountings 
of  the  harness  were  of  silver,  and  the  reins  of  crimson  silk." 
The  chronicler  adds  that  it  is  common  belief  that  M.  de 
Bievre  is  not  the  only  person  who  pays  for  these  luxuries. 

Soon  M.  de  Bievre  was  discarded  and,  "  after  some 
excursions  into  the  Court  and  financial  circles,"  Mile. 
Raucourt  accepted  the  protection  of  another  marquis, 
de  Villette,  the  dissipated  husband  of  Voltaire's  "  Belle 
ft  Bonne.^*  M.  de  Villette's  reign  was  even  shorter  than 
that  of  his  predecessor  in  the  lady's  affections,  and  far 
from  a  tranquil  one.  Not  content  with  doing  her  very 
best  to  ruin  him  by  her  extravagance,  his  mistress  tried 
to  inveigle  him  into  a  duel  with  the  architect  Belanger, 
over  some  epigram  which  Sophie  Arnould  had  made  at 
her  expense,  and  was  highly  indignant  when  poor  Villette, 
who  was  of  a  peace-loving  disposition,  declined  to  humour 
her.  After  a  few  weeks,  they  quarrelled  violently  over 
money  matters  and  parted  on  very  bad  terms,  but  not 
before  the  marquis  had,  by  a  letter  to  the  gazettes,  taken 
the  whole  town  into  his  confidence  in  regard  to  the  way 
the  lady  had  treated  him. 

Mile.  Raucourt's  conduct  grew  worse  and  worse  ; 
soon  she  had  become  perfectly  reckless.  Women  like 
Camargo,  Clairon,  Guimard,  Gaussin,  and  Sophie 
Arnould  had  been  lax  enough  in  their  morals  ;  but, 
at  least,  they  had  been  capable  of  more  or  less  disinterested 


MADEMOISKLLK  RAUCOURT 

From  an  engraving  by  Rlcjiie  after  the  painting  by  Gros  in  the  Collection  of 

Mr.  A.  M.  Broadley 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  i6i 

attachments,  and  had,  moreover,  generally  contrived  to 
cast  a  veil  over  their  worst  irregularities.  Mile.  Raucourt 
seemed  as  heartless  as  she  was  indifferent  to  public  opinion. 
She  passed  from  gallantry  to  gallantry ;  she  ruined 
foolish  young  men  and  then  laughed  at  their  folly, 
cynically  observing  that  "  women  were  the  most  expen- 
sive of  all  tastes  "  ;  she  flaunted  her  profligacy  in  the 
face  of  all  Paris,  and  contracted  immense  debts,  which 
there  was  no  possibility  of  her  being  able  to  discharge. 
"  In  the  space  of  a  few  months,"  writes  Grimm,  "  she 
astonished  Court  and  town,  as  much  by  the  excess  of  her 
irregularities  as  she  had  by  the  rare  prodigy  of  her  inno- 
cence. She  scandalised  even  those  who  were  least 
susceptible  to  scandal." 

The  day  of  reckoning  was  not  long  in  arriving.  Her 
renown  as  a  tragedienne  disappeared  with  her  reputation 
for  virtue  ;  and  this  actress  who,  at  the  time  of  her 
debut,  had  been  vaunted  as  the  superior  of  Dumesnil 
and  Clairon,  was  soon  to  become  one  of  the  most  striking 
examples  in  theatrical  history  of  the  fickleness  of  the  mob. 
The  public  decided  that  it  had  been  the  dupe  of  an 
unscrupulous  hypocrite  and  burned  with  righteous 
indignation.  Soon  detractors  arose  :  they  declared  that 
the  young  actress  had  no  soul,  no  sensibility  ;  that  her 
delivery  was  stilted  and  artificial ;  that  she  indulged  too 
freely  in  gesticulation  ;  that  her  acting  lacked  restraint, 
and  that  her  voice — that  "  sweetest,  most  flexible,  most 
harmonious,  most  enchanting  of  voices  " — was  harsh 
and  unpleasant.  They  found  fault  with  her  figure  : 
her  waist  was  too  long,  her  arms  too  thin.  Finally,  they 
even  denied  the  beauty  of  her  face,  on  the  ground  that 
it  was  too  masculine.  "  It  was  as  though  a  bandage 
had  fallen  from  the  eyes  of  the  public  " 

V 


1 62  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

There  can  be  very  little  doubt  that  Mile.  Raucourt's 
acting  was  now  distinctly  inferior  to  what  it  had  been 
at  the  time  of  her  first  appearance  at  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise.  A  dissipated  life  does  not  conduce  to  success 
in  any  profession,  and  it  would  appear  that,  so  far  from 
making  any  progress,  she  had  neglected  her  studies  to 
the  point  of  forgetting  much  of  what  Brizard  and  Mile. 
Clairon  had  been  at  such  pains  to  teach  her.  Still,  as 
we  have  said  elsewhere,  her  talents  had  been  absurdly 
overrated,  and  a  reaction  was  bound  to  set  in  sooner  or 
later.  That  it  came  so  quickly,  however,  and  assumed 
so  violent  a  form  was  the  result  of  circumstances  entirely 
unconnected  with  her  art. 

Her  reception  as  Hermione,  in  Andromaque,  in  March 
1774,  ^^^  ^^^  ^''^^  ^^S^  °^  ^^^  coming  storm.  According 
to  the  Memoires  secrets,  the  acting  all  round  on  this 
occasion  left  a  good  deal  to  be  desired ;  but  the  public, 
who  had  just  learned  that  Mile.  Raucourt  was  living 
openly  with  the  Marquis  de  Bievre,  concentrated  its 
resentment  upon  her,  and  she  was  loudly  hissed. 

The  hostile  demonstrations  grew  more  frequent  and 
more  pronounced  in  proportion  as  the  actress's  irregu- 
larities became  more  notorious.  Nevertheless,  so  long 
as  there  was  nothing  worse  than  innumerable  gallantries 
with  which  to  reproach  her,  she  was  not  without  sup- 
porters in  the  pit,  whose  acclamations  served  to  counteract, 
if  not  entirely  to  drown,  the  cries  of  the  malcontents. 
Presently,  however,  ugly  rumours  began  to  spread — 
rumours  which  attributed  to  the  young  tragedienne  the 
shameful  vices  of  ancient  Greece,  and  which,  there  is 
reason  to  believe,  were  but  too  well  justified.^     Every 

'  For  further  information  concerning  this  unpleasant  subject,  into  which 
vvc  naturally  do  not  care  to  enter,  sec  Edmond  de  Goncourt's  Maison  tTun 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  163 

one  now  turned  against  her  ;  those  who  had  been  loudest 
in  chanting  her  praises  were  now  foremost  in  ridicule 
and  abuse,  and  such  was  the  general  odium  which  she 
had  contrived  to  excite  that  she  counted  herself  fortunate 
if  her  appearance  on  the  stage  was  received  in  silence. 
"  Never,"  wrote  Grimm,  "  was  idol  worshipped  with 
more  infatuation  ;  never  was  idol  broken  with  more 
contempt." 

There  was,  however,  a  slight  reaction  in  her  favour 
when,  on  October  30,  1775,  she  appeared  as  the  Statue,  in 
the  Pygmalion  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau.  "  She  was  truly 
beautiful  in  this  pose,"  says  the  critic  of  the  Memoires 
secrets.  "  It  is  considered  the  most  successful  part  she 
has  yet  undertaken."  And  La  Harpe  writes :  "  This  role, 
which  would  be  suitable  for  so  few  women,  is  pre- 
cisely that  which  is  most  becoming  to  Mile,  Raucourt. 
The  only  thing  required  of  her  is  to  be  beautiful,  and  in 
that  she  is  a  complete  success.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine 
a  more  seductive  vision  than  this  actress,  as  she  poses  on 
her  pedestal  at  the  moment  when  the  veil  which  has 
hitherto  covered  her  is  drawn  aside.  Her  head  was 
that  of  Venus,  and  her  leg,  half-discovered,  that  of 
Diana."  1 

But  this  was,  after  all,  only  a  respite.  Soon  her 
humiliations  recommenced.  Her  rivals,  Madame  Vestris 
and  the  elder  Mile.  Sainval,  powerless,  as  we  have  seen, 
to  injure  her,  so  long  as  she  retained  her  popularity,  had 
not  been  slow  to  take  advantage  of  the  change  in  public 
feeling.  A  cabal  was  formed  against  her  at  the  theatre  ; 
she  was  systematically  entrusted  with  parts  quite  unsuited 

artiste,  ii.  60,  and  the  same  writer's  Sophie  Arnould,  p.  86.     A  similar  charge 
was  brought  against  Sophie  Arnould,  though,  apparently,  with  less  reason. 
'  Correspondance  litter  aire,  ii.  282, 


i64  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

to  her  style  of  acting,  and  sometimes  called  upon,  at  a 
few  hours'  notice,  to  appear  in  characters  which  she  had 
only  partially  studied.  Thus,  during  a  revival  of  Britan- 
nicus,  Mile.  Dumesnil,  happening  to  fall  ill,  the  luckless 
young  actress  found  herself  suddenly  compelled  to  play 
Agrippine,  a  role  which,  though  in  later  years  one  of 
her  most  successful  impersonations,  was  at  this  time 
almost  unknown  to  her.  Before  the  play  began,  d'Auber- 
val,  who  by  no  means  approved  of  the  proceedings  of 
the  cabal,  came  before  the  curtain,  informed  the  pit  of 
Mile.  Dumesnil's  indisposition,  and  begged  its  indulgence 
for  her  substitute.  His  request  was  of  no  avail ;  and  poor 
Mile.  Raucourt  met  with  such  a  reception  that  she 
fainted  and  had  to  be  carried  off  the  stage. 

To  the  intrigues  of  her  rivals  and  the  insults  of  the 
pit  were  now  added  the  importunities  and  threats  of 
her  creditors.  In  the  four  years  she  had  been  a  member 
of  the  Comedie-Frangaise  she  had,  besides  spending 
immense  sums  belonging  to  her  infatuated  admirers, 
contrived  to  run  into  debt  to  the  extent  of  something 
like  300,000  livres,  and  went  in  hourly  fear  of  arrest. 
At  length,  the  situation  became  intolerable,  and  she 
resolved  to  seek  safety  in  flight.  "  It  was  intended  to 
produce  the  Zuma  of  M.  Le  Fevre,"  writes  Grimm, 
"  when  the  compulsory  disappearance  of  Mile.  Raucourt, 
who  was  to  have  played  one  of  the  principal  parts,  caused 
the  rehearsals  to  be  suddenly  interrupted.  Sudden  as 
was  her  disappearance,  it  has  occasioned  little  surprise." 

Nothing  was  heard  of  the  fugitive  for  six  weeks, 
during  which,  it  was  subsequently  ascertained,  she  had 
been  hiding  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Paris,  disguised  as 
a  dragoon.  A  good-natured  farmer,  who  mistook  her 
for  a  young  officer  in  trouble  about  a  duel,  had  given  her 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  165 

shelter.     At  the  end  of  that  time  she  returned,  to  find 

that   her   name   had   been   struck   off   the   books   of   the 

Comedie-Frangaise,  and  her  place  given  to  Mile.  Sainval 

the   younger,    who,    received   with    enthusiasm    on   her 

debut,  had  been  subsequently  altogether  eclipsed  by  Mile. 

Raucourt,  and,  for  some  time  past,  had  been  playing  at 

Lyons. ^ 

At  first,  Mile.  Raucourt  took  refuge  in  the  Temple, 

the  sanctuary  of  insolvent  debtors,   while  some  of  the 

few  friends  still  left  to  her  negotiated  with  her  creditors, 

with    a    view    to    obtaining    a    reprieve.      Perhaps    the 

creditors  thought  that,  if  time  were  given  to  her,  the  lady 

might  contrive  to  secure  some  wealthy  admirer,  by  whom 

their  claims  would  be  settled.     Any  way,  they  consented 

to  accord  her  a  few  months'  grace,  and,  in  the  autumn. 

Mile.  Raucourt  left  the  Temple  and  went  to  live  with  a 

Madame  Souck,  "  a  German  woman  of  horribly  depraved 

morals,"  in  the  Rue  du  Faubourg  Saint-Denis.     Madame 

Souck,    it    transpired,    had   introduced    Mile.    Raucourt 

into  the  house  in  the  temporary  absence  of  the  landlord, 

who,  on  his  return,  found  her  established  in  a  vacant 

suite  of  apartments,  which  she  firmly  declined  to  vacate. 

When    he    ventured    to    remonstrate,    Madame    Souck's 

servants  threatened  him  with  "  cou-ps  de  baton  et  autres 

violences,''''  and  also  maltreated  one  of  his  tenants,  who 

would  appear   to   have   taken   the   landlord's   part.     So 

threatening,  indeed,  did  the  attitude  of  the  two  ladies  and 

their  domestics  become  that  the  poor  landlord  declared, 

^  The  expelled  actress  may  have  derived  some  little  consolation  from 
perusing  the  following  criticism  of  her  successor  in  the  Nouvelles  a  la  main  : 
"  July  9. — Mile.  Sainval  the  younger  made  her  first  appearance  yesterday, 
in  Zaire,  on  her  return  to  the  Comedie.  She  is  ugly,  and  particularly 
hideous  when  she  weeps,  ungraceful,  flat-breasted,  and  has  a  doleful  and 


monotonous  voice." 


i66  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

in  a  complaint  he  lodged  before  a  commissary  of  police, 
that  he  dared  not  even  sleep  in  his  own  house,  "  for  fear 
of  accidents."  ^ 

Madame  Souck's  finances,  like  those  of  her  friend, 
were  in  a  parlous  state,  and,  in  the  following  spring, 
a  firm  of  silk-merchants  of  the  Rue  Saint-Honore  levied 
an  execution  upon  her  premises,  and  placed  one  Thomas 
Philippe  Violet  and  another  bailiff  in  possession.  Madame 
Souck,  however,  was  not  a  lady  to  submit  tamely  to  such 
inconvenience,  and,  on  March  27,  we  find  Thomas  Philippe 
Violet  appearing  before  a  commissary  of  the  Chatelet 
to  lodge  a  complaint  and  demand  protection  against  the 
dame  Souck,  the  demoiselle  Raucourt,  and  other  persons, 
"  their  accomplices,  abettors,  and  adherents."  In  this 
document,  he  declares  that,  on  the  night  of  the  25th 
to  26th  inst.,  at  two  hours  after  midnight,  the  said  dame 
Souck  and  the  said  demoiselle  Raucourt,  "  both  dressed 
in  men's  clothes,"  arrived,  accompanied  by  the  said 
accomplices,  abettors,  and  adherents,  and,  after  creating 
a  terrible  uproar  and  "  swearing  by  the  Holy  Name  of 
God,"  proceeded  with  blows  and  kicks  to  force  the  doors, 
and  ejected  both  him  and  his  colleague  into  the  street.^ 

That  same  day.  Mile.  Raucourt  was  arrested,  at  the 
suit  of  a  usurer,  who  had  grown  tired  of  waiting  for  his 
money,  and  conveyed  to  For  I'Ev^que.  Fortunately  for 
her,  she  contrived  to  obtain  her  release  before  the  news 
of  her  arrest  had  been  noised  abroad,  in  which  case  she 
would  have  had  any  number  of  detainers  lodged  against 
her,  and  might  have  remained  under  lock  and  key  for  an 
indefinite  time.  The  Prince  de  Ligne,  who  had,  or  had 
formerly   had,    tender    relations    with    Madame    Souck, 

'  Campardon,  Les  Comediens  du  Rot  de  la  Trowpe  frangaise,  p.  251. 
^  Hid.  p.  255. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  167 

happened  to  be  in  Paris  and,  at  the  instance  of  that  lady, 
intervened  on  the  actress's  behalf.  He  appears  to  have 
settled  the  usurer's  claim  and  also  to  have  encouraged 
a  belief  that  he  intended  to  pay  all  Mile.  Raucourt's 
debts.  By  this  means  the  tragedienne  obtained  a  fresh 
respite,  which  she  employed  in  endeavouring  to  gain 
readmission  to  the  Comedie-Frangaise.  In  this  she 
failed  and,  finding  that  her  creditors  were  again  on  the 
point  of  taking  up  arms,  she  once  more  took  to  flight, 
and  this  time  left  the  country,  accompanied  by  her 
devoted  friend,  Madame  Souck. 

The  movements  of  Mile.  Raucourt  during  the  next 
two  years  are  shrouded  in  mystery.  All  that  is  known 
for  certain,  is  that  she  exploited  North  Germany,  Poland, 
and  Russia,  and  passed  some  time  in  Berlin  and  Warsaw. 
In  July  1778,  the  Nouvelles  a  la  main  report  that,  at 
Hamburg,  both  she  and  Madame  Souck  had  been  arrested 
on  a  charge  of  swindling,  and,  having  been  whipped  and 
branded,  expelled  from  the  city.  This,  however,  was  no 
doubt  only  malicious  gossip  spread  about  by  the  young 
actress's  enemies,  determined  to  keep  not  only  the 
ComMie-Fran^aise,  but  France  itself  closed  against  her  ; 
and  there  was  probably  more  truth  in  a  story  from 
Holland,  to  the  effect  that  Mile.  Raucourt  had  become 
the  mistress  of  a  wealthy  Russian  nobleman  and  had 
"  squandered  in  a  very  short  time  a  large  fortune." 

In  the  meanwhile,  great  events  were  taking  place  in 
Paris.  The  alliance  between  Madame  Vestris  and  Mile. 
Sainval  the  elder,  which  their  common  jealousy  of  Mile. 
Raucourt  had  called  into  being,  had  lasted  only  so  long 
as  the  total  discomfiture  of  that  lady  had  rendered 
necessary.     Its    object    accomplished,   it  was    dissolved, 


1 68  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

and  the  parties  turned  their  weapons  against  each  other. 
Counting  upon  the  support  of  her  lover,  the  Due  de 
Duras,  who,  in  his  capacity  as  First  Gentleman  of  the 
Chamber,  exercised  a  not  altogether  judicious  control 
over  the  affairs  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise,  Madame 
Vestris  appropriated  certain  characters  of  the  classic 
repertoire  which  Mile.  Sainval  had  hitherto  regarded 
as  her  exclusive  property.  The  latter  angrily  protested, 
and  the  matter  was  referred  to  the  Gentlemen  of  the 
Chamber,  who,  at  the  instance  of  the  Due  de  Duras, 
decided  in  favour  of  Madame  Vestris.  This  decision 
was  followed  by  open  war  between  the  two  actresses  and 
their  respective  partisans  ;  nothing  else  was  talked  of 
in  the  green-rooms,  the  cafes,  and  the  salons  of  Paris, 
and  very  hard  knocks  were  given  and  received. 

Madame  Vestris  wrote  to  the  Journal  de  Paris,  to 
justify  the  course  she  had  taken  ;  Mile.  Sainval  promptly 
replied  ;  but  the  editor  returned  her  letter,  with  an 
intimation  that  he  had  received  instructions  from  a 
high  quarter  that  no  reply  was  to  be  inserted.  Indignant 
at  such  injustice,  the  lady  thereupon  expanded  her  letter 
into  a  pamphlet,  "  in  which  M.  de  Duras  was  insulted, 
and  the  Queen  even  mentioned  in  a  manner  far  from 
respectful."^  Marie Antoniette,  who,  Madame  Campan 
tells  us,  was  accused,  by  implication,  of  leading  the  King 
by  the  nose,  seems  to  have  been  rather  amused  than  other- 
wise ;  but  the  duke  was  furious.  The  pamphlet  had 
contained  several  of  his  private  letters,  and  while  all 
playgoing  Paris  was  indignant  at  the  partiality  which 
these  revealed,  all  literary  Paris  was  making  merry  at 
the  expense  of  an  Academician  who  could  not  write  his 
mother-tongue    with    even    an    approach    to    accuracy. 

*  La  Harpe,  Coruspondance  litteraire,  ii.  415. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  169 

The  angry  nobleman  insisted  that  condign  and  exem- 
plary punishment  should  be  meted  out  to  the  offender, 
and  poor  Mile.  Sainval  was  expelled  from  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise,  prohibited  from  performing  in  any  provincial 
theatre,  and  exiled  to  Clermont,  in  Beauvoisis.^  This 
high-handed  action  was  bitterly  resented  by  the  public. 
Mile.  Sainval  had  been  far  more  popular  than  her  rival, 
whose  relations  with  the  Due  de  Duras  had  caused  her 
to  be  regarded  as  a  minion  of  the  Court,  and  the  habitues 
of  the  pit  now,  almost  to  a  man,  declared  in  her  favour. 
Madame  Vestris's  appearance  on  the  stage  was  the  signal 
for  a  storm  of  hisses ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
younger  sister  of  the  disgraced  actress  was  received  with 
tumultuous  cheering,  and  when,  one  evening,  in  the  char- 
acter of  Amenaide,  in  Tancrede,  she  pronounced  the  line, 

"L'injustice  k  la  fin  produit  I'independance," 

the  applause  absolutely  shook  the  theatre.  "  Nothing 
was  heard  but  cries  of  '  Sainval !  Sainval !  les  deux 
Sainval  t '  The  presence  of  the  guard  had  no  effect ; 
the  pit  that  night  would  have  opposed  a  regiment." 

Alarmed  by  these  demonstrations,  the  Gentlemen  of 
the  Chamber  decided  to  mitigate  the  punishment 
inflicted  upon  the  elder  Sainval,  who  was,  accordingly, 
granted  permission  to  leave  Clermont  and  to  play  in 
the  provinces.  Everywhere  she  was  received  with  frantic 
enthusiasm.  At  Bordeaux,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  play, 
two  cupids  descended  from  a  cloud  to  crown  her  with 
laurels,  and  the  audience  pelted  her  with  flowers  until 
the  stage  resembled  a  flower-garden. 

By  far  the  wisest  course  would  have  been  to  reinstate 
Mile.  Sainval  at  the  Comedie-Frangaise  and  thus  deprive 

^  Hawkins,  "  The  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  ii.  250  ef  seq. 


170  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  turbulent  patrons  of  that  institution  of  any  further 
excuse  for  demonstrations  in  her  favour  and  against  her 
rival.  But,  since  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber  were 
of  opinion  that  this  would  be  too  great  a  concession  to 
popular  clamour,  it  was  decided  to  endeavour  to  direct 
public  attention  from  Mile.  Sainval  and  her  wrongs  by 
recalling  Mile.  Raucourt. 

Madame  Vestris  herself  seems  to  have  been  the  first 
to  suggest  this  step.  She  was,  of  course,  well  aware  that 
if,  by  any  chance.  Mile.  Raucourt  were  to  recover  the 
place  she  had  once  held  in  the  affections  of  the  public, 
she  herself  would  be  completely  overshadowed.  But, 
since  her  own  eclipse  would  undoubtedly  be  shared  by 
Mile.  Sainval,  whom  she  now  hated  far  more  than  she 
ever  had  the  younger  actress,  she  was  prepared  to  regard 
that  eventuality  with  complacency. 

Mile.  Raucourt,  then  at  Berlin,  was  accordingly 
invited  to  return,  and  accepted  the  invitation  readily 
enough,  though  it  may  be  doubted  whether  she  would 
have  done  so  at  all,  could  she  have  foreseen  the  kind  of 
reception  which  awaited  her.  Her  creditors,  acting 
doubtless  on  a  hint  from  an  influential  quarter,  showed 
no  disposition  to  molest  her  ;  but  the  scandals  with 
which  her  name  had  been  associated  had  not  been  for- 
gotten. Every  door  was  closed  to  her  ;  no  one  could 
be  persuaded  to  have  any  dealings  with  this  "  most 
compromising  of  women." 

Friendless  and  without  resources,  she  knew  not  where 
to  go,  when  the  good-natured  Sophie  Arnould  offered 
her  hospitality.  It  was  a  courageous  act  on  the  ex- 
singer's  part,  since  her  own  and  Mile.  Raucourt's  enemies 
did  not  hesitate  to  attribute  it  to  the  most  shameful 
motives.     The  same  abominable  charge  which  had  been 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  171 

brought  against  the  tragedienne  was  now  openly  levelled 
at  her. 

Sophie,  however,  cared  very  little  what  people  might 
say  about  her.  Not  content  with  extending  her  hospi- 
tality to  the  proscribed  actress,  she  did  everything  in 
her  power  to  interest  her  friends  in  favour  of  her  -protegee. 
To  please  his  mistress,  the  Prince  d'Henin  became  one 
of  Mile.  Raucourt's  warmest  partisans,  and  used  all  his 
not  inconsiderable  influence  to  break  down  the  social 
quarantine  to  which  she  was  subjected. 

Mile.  Raucourt's  reinstatement  at  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise  was  more  easily  proposed  than  accomplished. 
The  majority  of  her  former  colleagues  opposed  it  most 
strenuously,  on  the  ground  that  their  statutes  prohibited 
the  rcadmission  of  a  player  who  had  been  excluded  by 
a  vote  of  the  societaires,  and  that  the  misconduct  of  the 
actress  in  question  had  injured  the  company  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  public.  The  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber, 
however,  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their  remonstrances. 
Marie  Antoinette,  a  great  admirer  of  Mile.  Raucourt's 
acting,  and  ever  ready  to  take  the  part  of  any  of  her  sex 
whom  she  considered  to  have  been  hardly  treated,  espoused 
her  cause,  and  even  talked  of  paying  her  debts,  and  on 
September  11,  1779,  the  Journal  de  Paris  contained  the 
following  announcement  : 

"  Comedie-Frangaise. — We  understand  that  the 
demoiselle  Raucourt,  absent  from  this  theatre  for  three 
years,  will  reappear  there  this  evening,  in  the  role  of 
Dido." 

Dido,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  the  part  in  which 
the  actress  had  made  her  sensational  debut^  seven  years 
before ;  and  the  recollection  of  the  triumph  she  had 
secured  on  that  occasion  had  doubtless  influenced  her 


172  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

choice  of  this  role.  Now,  as  then,  the  doors  of  the 
theatre  were  besieged,  and  the  salle  crowded  to  its  ut- 
most capacity.  But  alas  !  how  different  were  the 
feelings  which  animated  the  expectant  audience  !  Mile. 
Raucourt  had  been  thrust  upon  the  town  in  defiance 
of  feelings  which  ought  to  have  been  respected  ;  night 
after  night  the  pit  had  clamoured  for  Mile.  Sainval, 
and,  in  her  stead,  it  had  been  given — Raucourt !  And 
to  make  matters  worse,  it  was  an  open  secret  that  the 
Court  intended  to  pay  her  debts  "  out  of  the  people's 
money." 

Long  before  the  curtain  rose,  angry  murmurs  heralded 
the  coming  storm,  and  the  moment  Dido  appeared,  it 
burst  in  all  its  fury.  The  uproar  was  indescribable. 
Hisses,  groans,  and  cat-calls  came  from  all  parts  of  the 
pit.  The  grossest  epithets,  the  most  shocking  abuse, 
were  showered  upon  the  unfortunate  actress.  "  It  was 
impossible,"  says  one  account,  "  to  hear  a  single  word 
of  her  part.  The  other  actors  were  allowed  to  speak, 
but  so  soon  as  her  turn  arrived,  the  clamour  began  again. 
It  is  suspected  that  the  partisans  of  the  demoiselles 
Sainval  are  no  strangers  to  this  fermentation." 

Even  more  violent  was  the  hostility  displayed  when, 
two  nights  later.  Mile.  Raucourt  appeared  as  Phedre. 
All  who  are  familiar  with  Racine's  famous  tragedy  know 
that  the  part  of  the  hapless  heroine  contains  many  lines 
which  may  be  readily  applied  to  her  impersonator  by 
a  hostile  audience,  and,  in  electing  to  play  it,  Mile. 
Raucourt  furnished  her  enemies  with  weapons  of  which 
they  did  not  fail  to  make  the  very  fullest  use.  The 
well-known  lines  once  addressed  by  Adrienne  Lecouvreur 
to  her  rival  and  would-be  assassin,  the  Duchesse  de 
Bouillion  : 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  173 

"  Je  sais  mes  perfidies, 
CEnone,  et  ne  suis  pas  de  ces  femmcs  hardies, 
^ui,  goiltant  dans  la  crime  une  tranquille  paix, 
Ont  su  se  faire  un  front  qui  ne  rougit  jamais," 

were  greeted  with  cries  of  dissent  and  uproarious  laughter. 
The  words, 

"  De  I'austire  pudeur  les  bornes  sont  passees  .  .  ." 

were  answered  with  shouts  of  "  C^est  vrai  I  c''est  vrai  ! 
il  y  a  longtemps  I  While  when  she  came  to  the  passage 
in  which  Phedre,  in  an  agony  of  remorse,  exclaims, 

"  Et  moi,  triste  rebut  de  la  nature  entiere  .  .  ." 

the  ironical  cheering,  La  Harpe  tells  us,  seemed  as  if 
it  would  never  cease.  "  Neither  her  beauty  nor  her 
sex,"  writes  Grimm,  "  could  protect  her  any  longer,  and 
never  did  the  public  go  so  far  in  forgetfulness  of  its  own 
dignity." 

For  these  disgraceful  scenes,  the  Due  de  Duras 
seems  to  have  been,  in  no  small  measure,  responsible. 
In  his  anxiety  to  secure  a  hearing  for  Mile.  Raucourt, 
this  well-meaning  but  maladroit  nobleman  had  foolishly 
endeavoured  to  overawe  the  opposition  by  trebling  the 
guard  and  "  filling  the  pit  with  policemen,"  who  pounced 
upon  and  conducted  to  prison  the  most  prominent  of 
the  disturbers.  Such  tactics  naturally  had  the  effect 
of  exasperating  the  malcontents  to  the  last  degree 
and  of  alienating  many  whose  sympathies  had  hitherto 
lain  with  the  persecuted  actress.  "  While  the  Comte 
d'Estaing  is  fighting  the  English,  to  make  them  recog- 
nise the  independence  of  America,"  it  was  bitterly  said, 
"  the  Due  de  Duras  imprisons  Frenchmen  for  refusing 
to  applaud  Raucourt  !  " 


174  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Nevertheless,  fair-minded  persons  appear  to  have 
been  practically  unanimous  in  condemning  the  conduct 
of  the  pit.  "  Nothing,"  writes  La  Harpe,  "  can  prove 
more  clearly  that  the  spirit  of  the  -parterre  is  changed. 
The  excesses  in  which  it  indulges,  unknown  until  now, 
show  how  badly  composed  it  is.  Never  would  an  assembly 
of  respectable  persons  permit  itself  to  say  to  a  woman, 
whatever  she  might  be,  that  she  was  '  le  rebut  de  la  nature 
entiere^  One  can  decline  to  listen  to  her,  but  it  is 
shocking  and  abominable  to  go  to  such  lengths  as  this." 
He  adds  that,  in  his  opinion,  the  disturbance  was 
organised  by  the  elder  Mile.  Sainval,  "  who  knows  better 
than  any  one  how  to  set  to  work  the  crowd  of  venal 
ruffians  who  compose  to-day  a  third  of  the  parterre^  and 
sometimes  make  themselves  its  masters  "  ;  and  declares 
that  so  disgusted  is  he  with  the  cabals  and  acrimonious 
quarrels  which  divide  the  theatrical  and  literary  worlds, 
that  he  has  determined  to  abandon  dramatic  criticism 
altogether,  and  has,  accordingly,  resigned  his  post  on 
the  Mercure)- 

In  the  face  of  such  bitter  hostility  as  she  was  called 
upon  to  encounter.  Mile.  Raucourt  might  well  have 
been  pardoned  if  she  had  withdrawn  a  second  time  from 
the  stage.  That  she  declined  to  bow  to  the  storm  proves 
her  to  have  possessed  courage  and  pertinacity  of  an 
unusually  high  order.  Indeed,  her  firmness  on  the  night 
of  Phedre,  when,  at  each  hostile  manifestation,  she  had 
slowly  and  deliberately  repeated  the  line  which  had 
evoked  it,  had  undoubtedly  contributed  to  exasperate 
the  baser  kind  of  her  persecutors.  A  little  reflection, 
however,  sufficed  to  assure  her  that,  if  she  wished  to 
regain    the    indulgence    of   the    public,    she    must    have 

^  La  Harpe,  Correspondance  litter  aire,  iii.  3  et  seq. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  175 

recourse  to  other  methods,  and,  accordingly,  she  addressed 
to  the  Journal  de  Paris  the  following  letter  : 

**  September  13,  1776, 

"  Unusual  circumstances  having  placed  me  in  the 
position  of  occupying  at  the  Comedie  a  different  emfloi 
from  the  one  I  intended  for  myself,  permit  me,  through 
the  medium  of  your  journal,  to  inform  the  public  that 
I  have  no  other  ambition  than  to  fill  it  to  the  best  of  my 
ability  ;  that  I  do  not  purpose  playing  parts  of  any  other 
kind,  except  when  it  is  absolutely  indispensable  for  the 
service  of  the  Comedie  ;  that,  far  from  desiring  to  deprive 
my  comrades  of  anything,  my  only  wish  is  to  understudy 
them  ;  too  happy  if,  by  my  zeal,  my  exactitude,  and  my 
efforts,  I  succeed  in  convincing  the  public  of  my  respect 
and  of  my  anxiety  to  please  them. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  &c., 

"  De  Raucour." 

This  diplomatic  epistle  seems  to  have  been  not  without 
its  effect,  and,  though  her  reception  at  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise  still  left  much  to  be  desired,  no  attempt  was 
made  to  repeat  the  violent  scenes  which  had  marked  her 
two  first  performances.  On  the  other  hand,  her  creditors, 
urged  on  by  her  personal  enemies,  had  again  taken  up 
arms  and  left  her  not  a  moment's  peace.  In  order  to 
avoid  imprisonment,  she  was  once  more  on  the  point  of 
expatriating  herself,  when  a  royal  edict  appeared  which 
"  rendered  free  from  all  seizures,  confiscations,  or  stop- 
pages the  wages  and  appointments  of  the  players  and 
other  persons  attached  to  the  theatre,  up  to  the  amount 
of  two-thirds,  apart  from  the  necessary  expenditure 
for  board  and  lodging." 

It    was    common    belief    that    this    edict    had    been 


176  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

inspired  by  the  Queen,  who  had  seen  in  it  an  economical 
method  of  settling  the  debts  of  her  favourite  actress, 
and  its  appearance,  while  saving  MUe.  Raucourt  from  the 
necessity  of  choosing  between  imprisonment  and  flight, 
exposed  her  to  a  fresh  storm  of  invective.  A  score  of 
pamphlets  and  leaflets,  some  in  prose,  some  in  verse, 
were  launched  against  her,  in  which  she  and  her  supporters, 
the  Due  de  Duras,  the  Prince  d'Henin,  Sophie  Arnould, 
Madame  Vestris,  and  Brizard,  were  assailed  in  the  most 
violent  manner.  A  few  passages  from  one  of  these 
effusions,  entitled  La  Vision  du  prophete  Daniel,  will 
convey  a  good  idea  of  the  methods  employed  against 
unpopular  personages  in  the  eighteenth  century  : 

The  Old  Satrap  [the  Due  de  Duras],  having  banished 
Mile.  Sainval,  "  to  punish  her  for  having  more  talents 
than  his  concubine  [Madame  Vestris],"  announces  his 
intention  of  recalling  the  Harlot  of  Babylon  [Mile. 
Raucourt],  "  whom  all  nations  have  rejected,"  and  forcing 
the  people  whom  he  governs  to  receive  her. 

"  And  one  heard  a  cry  :  *  Way,  way  for  the  Prince 
des  Nains  [the  Prince  d'Henin]  !  ' 

"  And  I  looked,  expecting  to  behold  at  the  head  of 
a  troop  of  pigmies  an  abortion. 

*'  And  I  saw  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  foolish  eye  and 
a  silly  smile,  affecting  an  air  of  importance  ;  and  what 
was  my  surprise  to  see,  through  his  transparent  body, 
that,  in  place  of  blood,  a  black  and  poisonous  mud 
circulated  in  his  veins  .  .  .  ! " 

"  And  his  corrupt  heart  was  falling  into  rotten- 
ness. And  one  saw  there  none  of  those  feelings  which 
characterise  the  nobility ;  cowardice,  poltroonery, 
debauchery,  infamy,  deceit,  avarice,  and  duplicity, 
shared  what  remained  of  this  gangrened  heart." 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  177 

"  And  he  made  his  way  through  the  crowd,  leading  by 
the  hand  a  woman,  whom  I  took  for  a  man,  from  her 
impudent  demeanour,  her  loud  voice,  and  her  gigantic 
stature  [Mile.  Raucourt]. 

"  She  cast  around  her  lascivious  glances.  .  .  .  And 
a  voice  cried  :  '  Behold  her  ;  the  woman  who  has  gone 
beyond  all  the  abominations  wherewith  the  nations  of 
the  earth  are  soiled. 

"  *  And  she  is  about  to  renew  here  the  scenes  of 
debauchery  and  extravagance  which  she  has  given 
elsewhere.'  "  ^ 

At  the  beginning  of  the  following  year,  the  Nouvelles 
d  la  main  announce  that  Mile.  Raucourt  has  repaid  the 
hospitality  and  protection  received  from  Sophie  Arnould 
by  "  an  act  of  frightful  ingratitude,  unhappily  but  too 
common  among  women,"  namely,  by  stealing  away  from 
her  the  Prince  d'Henin,  "  in  order  to  rivet  her  fetters 
upon  him."  The  writer  adds  that  Sophie  is  furious, 
and  that  the  guilty  pair,  fearful  of  the  consequences  of 
their  treachery,  have  fled  to  Bagatelle  and  taken  refuge 
with  the  Comte  d'Artois,  who  is  credited  with  a  desire 
to  participate  in  the  good  fortune  of  the  Prince  d'Henin. 

The  report  that  the  prince  had  taken  Mile.  Raucourt 
under  his  protection,  in  the  technical  sense  of  the  term, 
was  true ;  but,  so  far  from  having  sought  refuge  with  the 
Comte  d'Artois,  at  Bagatelle,  he  appears  to  have  rented 
the  chateau  from  its  royal  owner.  Sophie  Arnould, 
if  she  cherished  any  animosity  against  the  offenders — - 
which  is  open  to  question,  the  probability  being  that 
she  and  the  prince  were  by  this  time  heartily  tired  of 
one  another — would  have  been  far  more  likely  to  revenge 
herself  by  some  biting  bon  mot  than  by  personal  injury. 

*  Memoires  secrets,  xiv.  214  et  seq. 

M 


178  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Paris  and  Versailles,  we  are  told,  laughed  over  this 
adventure  till  its  sides  ached,  for  a  whole  week.  Mile. 
Raucourt's  conduct  was  considered  despicable,  but  there 
was  little  pity  for  Sophie,  who,  one  writer  declares,  was 
justly  punished  "  for  having  welcomed  a  woman  who  was 
the  opprobrium  of  her  sex." 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  Prince  d'Henin  found  in 
Mile.  Raucourt's  society  sufficient  compensation  for  being 
dragged  through  the  same  gutters  as  the  tragedienne 
by  the  scribes  who  delighted  to  assail  her,  and  for  the 
fact  that  it  was  now  his  privilege  to  deal  with  the 
horde  of  creditors  who  were  "  perpetually  howling  at 
her  skirts."  To  do  him  justice,  meanness  was  not  one 
of  his  failings  ;  but  adversity  had  not  taught  the  lady 
wisdom,  at  least  so  far  as  financial  matters  were  con- 
cerned, and  no  sooner  did  her  unfortunate  lover  discharge 
one  debt  than  she  appears  to  have  straightway  contracted 
another.  Under  date  September  16,  1781,  we  read  in 
the  Memoires  secrets  : 

"  Queen  Melpomene  is  more  than  ever  ruined  by 
debt.  The  Prince  d'Henin,  to  aid  her  to  escape  the 
pursuits  of  her  creditors,  has  taken  over  all  the  furniture 
and  effects  of  this  actress.  But  he  is  summoned  to 
declare  upon  oath,  before  the  Civil  Lieutenant  of  Paris, 
whether  his  ostensible  ownership  is  not  simulated." 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  what  course  the 
prince  adopted  under  these  somewhat  embarrassing 
circumstances  ;  but,  unfortunately,  the  chroniclers  do 
not  tell  us. 

In  the  meanwhile.  Mile.  Raucourt  was  seeking  con- 
solation for  her  many  troubles  in  the  cultivation  of  the 
Muses.  She  was  at  work  upon  "  a  drama  in  three  acts 
and    in    prose,"    entitled    Henriette,    adapted,    it   would 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  179 

appear,  from  a  play  which  she  had  seen  at  Warsaw,  some 
years  before.     The  plot  was  briefly  as  follows  : 

A  Prussian  colonel,  Stclim  by  name,  wounded  in  a 
duel,  is  carried  to  the  house  of  Henriette's  father  and 
nursed  by  the  lady,  who  falls  deeply  in  love  with  her 
patient.  The  colonel  recovers  and  returns  to  his  duty, 
all  unconscious  of  the  passion  which  he  has  inspired. 
The  lovelorn  Henriette  resolves  to  follow  him,  runs  away 
from  home,  dressed  as  a  man,  and  enlists  in  her  colonel's 
regiment.  One  day,  she  surprises  her  beloved  in  the  act 
of  kissing  the  hand  of  a  strange  lady,  upon  which,  unaware 
that  the  latter  is  only  his  sister,  she  is  so  overcome  by 
jealousy  and  mortification  that  she  deserts.  She  is 
pursued,  recaptured,  tried  by  court-martial,  and  con- 
demned to  be  shot ;  but,  at  the  last  moment,  her  secret 
is  discovered,  and  all  ends  happily. 

Henriette  did  not  reach  the  stage  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise  without  encountering  many  difficulties.  In 
the  Warsaw  play,  Frederick  the  Great  and  his  army  had 
been  treated  with  very  scant  re  ^  3ct  ;  and  the  Prussian 
Ambassador  now  demanded  that  Mile.  Raucourt's  adap- 
tation should  be  very  strictly  scrutinised,  and  that  "  all 
passages  calculated  to  wound  the  King  his  master 
eliminated."  As  there  seem  to  have  been  a  good  many 
of  these,  it  was  feared,  at  first,  that  the  play  would  be 
mutilated  beyond  recognition,  even  if  it  were  not 
prohibited  altogether.  But  the  Prince  d'Henin  left 
no  stone  unturned  to  rescue  his  mistress's  work  from  the 
claws  of  the  censor,  and,  after  many  conferences  and  much 
correspondence,  it  was  finally  decided  to  spare  those 
passages  "  in  which  the  impertinence  towards  the  King 
of  Prussia  was  more  remarkable  for  its  intention  than  for 
its  effect." 


i8o  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

The  play  was  produced  on  March  i,  1782,  before  a 
densely  crowded  house,  which  the  authoress,  by  a  very 
adroit  manoeuvre,  had  taken  care  to  predispose  in  her 
favour.  It  was  then  the  custom  on  first  nights  to  reserve 
a  large  number  of  the  "parterre  tickets  for  distribution 
among  the  author's  friends,  who,  of  course,  applauded 
enthusiastically,  no  matter  how  coldly  the  production 
might  be  received  by  the  general  public.  But  Mile. 
Raucourt  refused  to  avail  herself  of  this  privilege,  declar- 
ing that  "  if  her  drama  were  a  good  one,  it  would  succeed 
on  its  own  merits  "  ;  a  decision  which,  we  are  told,  was 
received  with  universal  applause.^ 

On  the  whole,  the  verdict  of  the  public  was  favour- 
able. "  The  first  act,"  say  the  Memoires  secrets,  "  was 
thought  cold,  but  the  second  excited  long,  frequent, 
and  sincere  applause.  The  third  act  was  also  applauded, 
though  with  less  enthusiasm." 

The  critics  were,  however,  anything  but  kind.  Grimm 
describes  the  subject  as  "  monstrous  "  ;  La  Harpe 
stigmatises  the  work  as  "  an  absurd  and  foolish  rhapsody," 
a  striking  proof  of  "  the  decadence  of  talents  and  the 
corruption  of  taste  "  ;  ^  while  the  Mercure,  after  declaring 
that  the  play  possesses  many  faults  and  advising  Mile. 
Raucourt  "  to  treat  of  subjects  with  a  truer  and  worthier 
moral  end,"  declines  to  say  any  more.  "  The  author 
is  a  woman,  and  we  do  not  wish  to  play  with  her  the  part 
of  Diomed."  3 

^  Memoires  secrets,  xix.  103. 

'  La  Harpe,  Correspondance  litteraire,  lii.  327.  La  Harpe  states  that  a 
rumour  was  current  that  Mile.  Raucourt  had  only  lent  her  name  to  the  play, 
and  that  it  was  really  the  work  of  either  Durosoy  or  Monvel.  This  rumour, 
however,  is  indignantly  repudiated  by  the  Memoires  secrets,  which  declare 
it  to  be  nothing  but  a  malicious  invention  of  the  lady's  enemies. 

^  Mcrcure  dc  France,  March  I'-Bz. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  i8i 

But  whatever  opinions  they  may  have  held  in  regard 
to  the  merits  of  the  work  itself,  every  one  agreed  that 
Mile.  Raucourt  was  charming  in  the  uniform  of  a  Prussian 
soldier  ;  and  La  Harpe  states  that  people  went  two  or 
three  times  solely  to  see  her  masquerading  as  a  man. 

Her  success  in  Henriette  encouraged  Mile.  Raucourt 
to  undertake  a  real  masculine  part,  and,  two  years  later 
(March  1784),  she  secured  a  genuine  triumph,  as  a  captain 
of  dragoons,  in  a  play  by  Rochon  de  Chabannes,  called 
Le  Jaloux.  The  ease  with  which  she  wore  the  uniform 
appears  to  have  been  particularly  admired,  a  circum- 
stance which  is  not  surprising  when  we  remember  that, 
when  in  hiding,  in  the  summer  of  1776,  she  had  worn 
a  very  similar  dress  for  more  than  six  weeks. 

"  What  an  actor  that  Raucourt  is  !  "  remarked  the 
younger  Sainval,  who  enjoyed  a  not  undeserved  reputa- 
tion as  a  wit.  "  And  what  a  pity  she  persists  in  wishing 
to  play  women's  parts  !  " 

Little  by  little  the  hostility  of  which  Mile.  Raucourt 
had  so  long  been  the  object  subsided.  Slowly  but  surely 
the  tragedienne  recovered  the  ground  she  had  lost,  until, 
in  1786,  we  find  the  Memoires  secrets  declaring  that 
**  she  will  soon  take  rank  with  the  greatest  actresses," 
and  that  "  the  most  critical  amateurs  were  fain  to  confess 
that  she  had  made  prodigious  improvement." 

This  happy  result  seems  to  have  been  due  partly  to 
a  genuine  love  of  her  art,  which  led  her  to  devote  far 
more  time  to  serious  study  than  had  been  the  case  in 
earlier  years,  and  partly  to  the  exercise  of  a  good  deal 
of  tact — willingness  to  understudy  her  former  rivals, 
to  condescend  to  the  parts  of  nurse  and  confidante,  and, 
in  short,  to  do  almost  anything  that  was  required  of  her — 
which  had  disarmed  the  jealousy  of  her  colleagues  and 


1 82  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

rendered  her  an  almost  popular  member  of  the  troupe. 
It  was  certainly  not  attributable  to  any  change  in  her 
morals,  for  if  scandal  were  no  longer  busy  with  her  name, 
it  was  from  no  lack  of  material.  In  the  years  imme- 
diately preceding  the  Revolution,  however,  people  had 
more  important  matters  to  discuss  than  the  amours 
of  actresses. 

The  Revolution  very  nearly  proved  fatal  to  Mile. 
Raucourt.  The  questions  which  were  agitating  the  public 
mind  were  very  far  from  leaving  the  national  theatre 
undisturbed.  "  Even  our  little  green-room,"  writes 
Fleury,  "  was  not  exempt  from  the  invasion  of  the 
moment.  Melpomene  and  Thalia  had  the  mortification 
to  see  their  sacred  altars  profaned  by  the  party  pamphlets 
of  the  day,  their  venerated  sanctuary  converted  into  a 
political  club."  The  house  of  Moli^re,  in  fact,  was 
divided  against  itself.  Mile.  Raucourt,  Mole,  Fleury, 
and  Louise  Contat  had  tasted  too  many  of  the  sweets 
of  Court  favour  not  to  deplore  deeply  the  fall  of  the  old 
regime  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand.  Talma,  Madame 
Vestris,  Dugazon,  and  Mile.  Deschamps  espoused  the 
popular  side  with  the  fervour  of  rooted  conviction.  Of 
the  remainder,  the  majority  were  either  Royalists  or 
moderate  constitutionalists.^ 

This  divergence  of  political  opinion  soon  led  to 
angry  recriminations  and  thence  to  an  open  rupture,  and, 
in  the  spring  of  1791,  Talma  and  his  friends,  finding 
their  position  growing  intolerable,  withdrew  from  the 
company,  to  found,  at  the  Palais-Royal,  the  Theatre- 
Fran^ais  de  la  Rue  de  Richelieu,  which,  in  the  following 
year,  became  the  Theatre  de  la  Republique. 

'  Hawkins,  "  The  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  339. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  183 

Having  purged  itself  of  its  Republican  members, 
the  Comedie  threw  itself  boldly  into  the  political  strife, 
and,  throughout  the  terrible  winter  of  1792-93,  allowed 
no  opportunity  to  slip  of  advocating  the  restoration  of 
order  and  security.  On  January  3,  1793,  during  the 
King's  trial,  it  produced  a  play,  by  Jean  Laya,  entitled 
Les  Amis  des  Lois,  in  which  Robespierre  (under  the  name 
of  Nomophage),  Marat,  and  other  Montagnards  were  held 
up  to  ridicule  and  odium.  How  such  a  play  contrived 
to  escape  the  vigilance  of  the  Republican  censors  is  not 
easy  to  understand,  since  so  thinly  veiled  were  the  allusions 
that  almost  every  passage  was  punctuated  by  the  cheers 
and  hooting  of  an  excited  audience.  It  was,  of  course, 
speedily  suppressed,  and  from  that  moment  the  doings  of 
the  Comedie  were  closely  watched  by  the  sanguinary 
faction  now  rising  to  supremacy  in  the  State,  which  only 
awaited  an  opportunity  of  closing  the  theatre  and  arraign- 
ing the  whole  company  before  the  Revolutionary  Court. 

An  adaptation  of  "  Pamela,"  by  Francois  de  Neufcha- 
teau,  afterwards  Minister  of  the  Interior,  which  contained 
not  a  little  material  calculated  to  awaken  regret  for  the 
proscribed  nobility,  provided  the  Jacobins  with  the 
pretext  they  desired,  and,  on  September  3,  the  whole  of 
the  players,  with  the  exception  of  Mole,  who  had  con- 
trived to  effect  his  escape,  and  Des  Essarts,  who  was 
taking  the  waters  at  Bareges,  were  arrested  and  conveyed 
to  the  Madelonettes,  in  the  Quartier  Saint-Martin-des- 
Champs,  and  Sainte-Pelagie,  in  the  Rue  de  la  Clef  ;  the 
men  being  assigned  to  the  former  prison  and  the  women 
to  the  latter. 

That  the  players,  or  at  any  rate  those  of  them  who 
held  the  most  pronounced  counter-revolutionary  opinions, 
were  doomed,  was  the  opinion  of  even  their  most  sanguine 


1 84  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

friends.  The  Revolutionary  Court,  which  had  been 
created  in  the  previous  March,  to  judge  without  appeal 
conspirators  against  the  State,  still  retained  all  the  forms 
of  justice — it  was  not  until  June  1794  that  the  hearing 
of  counsel  and  calling  of  witnesses  were  dispensed  with — 
but  its  proceedings  were,  in  the  great  majority  of  cases, 
a  hollow  farce.  The  judges  were  appointed  from  the 
ranks  of  the  most  ruthless  Terrorists  ;  the  jurymen, 
nominated  by  the  Convention,  were  all  "  gens  d* expedi- 
tion''''',  while,  as  to  give  evidence  on  behalf  of  an  accused 
person  was  to  incur  the  danger  of  sharing  his  fate, 
witnesses  for  the  defence  could  with  difficulty  be  induced 
to  come  forward. 

For  some  cause  which  is  not  quite  certain,  but  was 
probably,  as  Fleury  suggests,  the  fear  of  disseminating 
the  small-pox,  at  that  time  prevailing  in  the  Madelo- 
nettes,  the  case  of  the  imprisoned  players  was  not  dealt 
with  for  more  than  nine  months.  At  length,  on  Messidor 
8,  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  deliberated  upon 
their  fate  ;  and  CoUot  d'Herbois  sent  to  Fouquier- 
Tinville  the  accusatory  documents  against  Dazincourt, 
Fleury,  Miles.  Raucourt,  Louise  and  Emilie  Contat, 
and  Lange,  who  were  considered  the  most  culpable, 
accompanied  by  the  following  letter  : 

"  Herewith  I  send  you  the  documents  relating  to  the 
actors  of  the  Comedie-Fran^aise.  In  common  with  all 
patriots,  you  know  how  counter-revolutionary  their 
conduct  has  been.  You  will  bring  them  before  the  Court 
on  Messidor  13.  With  regard  to  the  others,  there  are 
some  among  them  who  may  be  punished  with  banish- 
ment. But  we  will  see  what  can  be  done  with  them  after 
the  others  have  been  tried." 

And  on  the  margin  of  each  of  the  six  dossiers,  Collet 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  185 

d'Herbois,  in  his  own  hand,  had  traced  a  capital  G  in 
red  ink.  For  the  docile  Fouquier-Tinvillc  that  capital 
G  signified  :    "  Guilloti?tez  !  " 

The  trial  was  fixed  for  Messidor  13,  and,  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  it  was  intended  that  Mile.  Raucourt  and  her  five 
colleagues  should  make  their  final  bow  to  the  public,  on 
the  Place  de  la  Revolution. 

However,  neither  trial  nor  execution  ever  took  place, 
for,  on  the  morning  of  the  13th,  it  was  found  that  the  six 
dossiers  had  mysteriousjy  disappeared,  and  all  efforts 
to  recover  them  proved  fruitless. 

Let  us  see  what  had  become  of  them. 

In  conformity  with  the  usual  practice,  the  papers 
had  been  sent  by  Fouquier-Tinville  to  the  Bureau  des 
Pieces  Accusatives  at  the  dismantled  Tuileries.  Now, 
in  this  department  there  was  a  clerk  named  Charles  de 
Labussiere,  who  had  accepted  the  post  as  a  means  of 
securing  his  own  safety,  and  who  at  heart  was  a  devoted 
Royalist.  Through  Labussiere's  hands  passed  all  the 
documents  relating  to  prisoners  awaiting  trial  and,  when- 
ever he  could  do  so  with  but  little  fear  of  discovery,  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  destroy  them.  At  first,  he  observed 
great  caution  and  confined  himself  to  abstracting  a  few 
pages  from  the  portfolios ;  but,  so  soon  as  he  became  aware 
of  the  reckless  disorder  which  characterised  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  fatal  committee,  he  enlarged  the  scope  of  his 
operations  and  is  said  to  have  saved  some  hundreds  from 
the  guillotine,  among  whom  was  no  less  a  personage  than 
Josephine  de  Beauharnais,  whom  Fate  subsequently  raised 
to  the  imperial  throne  of  France.  The  method  he 
adopted  was  an  ingenious  one.  As  it  was  then  summer 
and  exceedingly  hot  weather,  and  the  lighting  of  a  fire 
might  have  attracted  attention,  instead  of  burning  the 


1 86  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

papers,  it  was  his  practice  to  soak  them  in  water,  until 
the  bulky  parchments  had  become  balls  of  soft  paste, 
which  could  be  stowed  away  in  his  pockets,  and  to 
await  a  favourable  opportunity  of  throwing  them  into 
the   Seine. 

On  the  night  of  Messidor  9,  Labussiere  abstracted 
the  papers  relating  to  the  imprisoned  actors  and  carried 
them  off.  He  had,  however,  a  very  narrow  escape  of 
detection.  On  his  way  to  the  river,  his  movements 
aroused  the  suspicion  of  a  patrol,  by  whom  he  was  arrested  ; 
and  he  would  undoubtedly  have  been  searched  and  the 
papers  discovered,  but  for  the  timely  arrival  of  an  official 
of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  who  recognised  him 
and  ordered  his  release.-^ 

Thus  the  players  were  saved,  for  before  a  new  brief 
could  be  prepared,  came  "  that  happiest  and  most  genial 
of  revolutions,  the  Revolution  of  the  9th  Thermidor," 
which  brough  the  Terror  to  a  close  and  freedom  to  so 
many  hundreds  of  prisoners. 

Three  weeks  later,  the  members  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise  reappeared  at  their  theatre  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Germain,  now  called  the  Theatre  de  I'Egalite. 
La  MHromanie  and  Les  Fausses  Confidences  composed 
the  programme,  and  the  players,  notwithstanding  the 
reactionary  views  they  were  known  to  hold,  had  a  great 
reception  from  an  immense  audience,  though,  remarked 
Louise  Contat  sarcastically,  nothing  like  so  large  a  one 
as  there  would  have  been  to  see  them  guillotined. 

The  players,  however,  did  not  remain  many  months 

in  their  old  home.     The   Faubourg  Saint-Germain,   so 

long  the  centre  of  rank  and  wealth,  was  being  abandoned 

in  favour  of  more  central  spots,  while,  as  a  result  of  the 

'  Metnoires  de  Fleury,  v.  228,  et  seq. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  187 

existing  free  trade  in  theatrical  matters,  there  were  now 
several  playhouses  within  a  narrow  radius  of  the  Palais- 
Royal,  whose  advantage  of  situation  rendered  them 
formidable  competitors.  In  January  1795,  accordingly, 
the  members  of  the  Comedie-Fran^aise,  not,  as  may  be 
supposed,  without  many  regrets,  migrated  to  the  Theatre 
Feydeau,  a  house  which  had  been  erected,  some  years 
before,  for  a  company  of  Italian  farceurs,  and  was  now 
under  the  control  of  a  speculative  gentleman  named 
Sageret. 

To  be  the  paid  servant  of  Sageret,  who  does  not  appear 
to  have  borne  the  best  of  reputations,  seemed  to  Mile. 
Raucourt  a  kind  of  degradation — the  arts  and  humanity, 
she  declared,  cried  out  against  the  subjection  under 
which  they  had  been  led  to  place  themselves ;  and,  in 
the  following  December,  that  lady  withdrew  from  the 
company,  followed  by  Larive,  Mile.  Joly,  Saint-Prix, 
and  several  others,  and  took  possession  of  a  theatre  in 
the  Rue  de  Louvois,  intending  apparently  to  make  it 
the  central  point  of  a  reunion  of  the  entire  company. 

The  flower  of  the  Comedie-Fran^aise  was  now 
divided  between  three  playhouses  :  the  Theatre  de  la 
Republique,  the  Theatre  Feydeau,  and  the  Theatre  de 
Louvois.  Of  these  the  latter,  which  was  inaugurated 
on  Nivose  5,  Year  v.  (December  25,  1796),  with  Ifhigenie 
and  a  little  play  by  Laya,  entitled  Les  Deux  Sasurs,  was 
for  a  time  the  most  successful ;  Mile.  Raucourt  securing 
a  great  personal  triumph  in  another  masculine  part — 
that  of  the  hero  in  Legouve's  Laurence.  Laurence,  it 
may  be  explained,  was  the  young  gentleman  who  became 
enamoured  of  Ninon  de  Lenclos  without  knowing  that 
he  was  her  son. 

The  Directory,  however,  like  the  despotism  which 


i88  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

it  had  succeeded,  kept  a  jealous  eye  on  the  theatres,  and 
was  in  the  habit  of  closing  them,  temporarily  or  altogether, 
upon  the  slightest  provocation  ;  and  an  incident  which 
took  place  during  the  performance  of  Les  Trots  Freres 
Tivaux  ruined  all  the  hopes  of  Mile.  Raucourt.  One  of 
the  characters,  addressing  his  valet-de-chamhre,  by  name 
Merlin,  exclaims  : 

"  Monsieur  Merlin,  you  are  a  scoundrel !  Monsieur 
Merlin,  you  will  end  by  being  hanged  !  " 

Now  Merlin  de  Douai,  the  Minister  of  Justice,  was 
just  then  in  very  bad  odour  with  the  public  ;  and  the 
audience  applied  the  speech  to  him  and  cheered  voci- 
ferously for  several  minutes. 

A  few  days  later  (September  9,  1797),  at  the  moment 
when  the  curtain  was  about  to  rise  on  a  performance  of 
the  Barbier  de  Seville,  an  order  arrived  forbidding  all 
further  representations  at  the  Theatre  de  Louvois. 

Mile.  Raucourt  made  every  effort  to  obtain  a  revoca- 
tion of  the  order,  but  to  no  purpose.  However,  she  was 
not  long  without  a  theatre,  as,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
following  year,  she  contrived  to  secure  possession  of  the 
former  seat  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise,  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Germain,  henceforth  to  be  known  as  the  Odeon, 
which  she  opened  with  a  performance  of  Phedre.  Shortly 
afterwards,  the  Theatre  de  la  Republique  shared  the  fate 
of  the  Theatre  de  Louvois,  the  political  opinions  of  Talma 
and  his  associates  being  too  advanced  to  please  the 
Government.  The  enterprising  Sageret  thereupon 
induced  the  homeless  players  to  join  forces  with  their 
former  colleagues  at  the  Theatre  Feydeau,  and  took  over 
the  management  of  the  Odeon  from  Mile.  Raucourt, 
his  intention  being  that  the  actors  under  his  command 
should  appear  at  either  theatre  in  turn.     But  Sageret 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  189 

became  bankrupt  and  disappeared ;  the  Odeon  was 
completely  destroyed  by  a  fire,  the  cause  of  which  was 
never  discovered,  and  Paris  found  itself  without  a  temple 
of  the  legitimate  drama. 

This  unfortunate  condition  of  affairs,  however,  lasted 
but  a  short  while.  Francois  de  Neufchateau,  the  author 
of  the  Pamela  which  had  proved  so  fatal,  was  now 
Minister  of  the  Interior  and  honestly  desirous  of  doing 
everything  in  his  power  to  promote  the  interests  of  the 
drama.  Through  his  influence,  in  May  1799,  a  wise 
measure  of  the  Consular  Government  reunited  in  a 
single  society  the  scattered  members  of  the  old  Comedie- 
Frangaise,  and  placed  at  its  disposal  the  salle  of  the 
Palais-Royal  (formerly  the  Theatre  de  la  Republique), 
which  it  has  not  ceased  to  occupy  to  this  day. 

Mile.  Raucourt,  to  her  honour  be  it  said,  never  made 
any  secret  of  her  monarchical  sympathies.  During  the 
Directory,  she  was  a  bright  and  shining  light  of  what 
was  known  as  "  Le  -petit  Cohlentz.^'^  an  association  of 
Royalists  which  held  its  meetings  at  a  house  in  the 
Boulevard  des  Italiens  and  strove,  by  force  of  jests, 
sarcasms,  and  epigrams,  to  upset  the  Republic.  She 
wore  on  her  spencer  eighteen  buttons,  "  a  delicate 
allusion  to  Louis  XVIII.,  the  legitimate  sovereign." 
And  when  she  fanned  herself,  it  was  with  one  of  those 
famous  weeping-willow  fans,  the  folds  of  which  formed 
the  face  of  Marie  Antoinette. 

Nevertheless,  Mile.  Raucourt  had,  personally,  but  little 
cause  to  complain  of  the  Directory.  Her  antagonism 
to  the  Government  did  not  extend  to  its  agents,  through 
the  good  offices  of  some  of  whom  she  contrived  to  make 
a     considerable     fortune,    by  judicious    speculation    in 


190  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

assignats,  army  contracts,  and  confiscated  estates.  She 
now  discharged  her  debts,  and  bought  "  a  palace  "  in  the 
Rue  Royale,  with  a  spacious  garden  attached,  where  she 
gave  sumptuous  f^tes,  to  which  all  fashionable  Paris  was 
invited.  Nothing  so  delightful  as  her  boudoir,  we  are 
assured,  had  ever  been  seen  before  ;  the  fittings  were  of 
green  and  gold,  and  the  chimney-piece  of  blue  marble. 

After  the  establishment  of  the  Empire,  Napoleon,  who 
was  a  great  admirer  of  Mile.  Raucourt's  acting,  accorded 
her  a  handsome  pension  and  engaged  her  to  organise 
a  troupe  of  French  players,  to  travel  through  Italy 
and  give  performances  in  the  principal  towns,  with  the 
idea  of  extending  French  influence  in  that  country.  In 
Italy,  Mile.  Raucourt  remained  several  years,  paying, 
however,  occasional  visits  to  Paris,  when  she  appeared 
at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  generally  in  the  parts  of 
mothers  or  queens,  and  always  with  great  success.  Madame 
Vigee  Lebrun  tells  us  that  she  remained  to  the  last  a 
great  tragedienne,  but  that,  with  advancing  years,  her 
voice  became  so  harsh  that,  when  not  looking  at  her, 
people   might  have  imagined  themselves  listening  to  a 


man.^ 


Mile.  Raucourt  retired  from  the  stage  in  1814,  her 
farewell  appearance  at  the  Comedie-Frangaise  being  as 
Catherine  de  Medicis,  in  the  Etats  de  Blois  of  Ray- 
nouard.  On  January  15  of  the  following  year,  she  died, 
after  a  short  illness,  "  thanking  God  that  she  had  been 
permitted  to  salute  the  return  of  her  legitimate  King." 

The  funeral,  which  took  place  two  days  later,  was  the 
occasion  of  a  painful  scandal.  From  the  earliest  days 
of  the  Restoration,  the  clergy,  relying  on  the  support 
of  the  new  Government,  had  shown  themselves  as  in- 

^  Souvenirs,  i.  82. 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  191 

tolerant  towards  the  actor  as  had  those  of  the  old  regime. 
Mile.  Raucourt's  house  was  in  the  Rue  du  Hclder,  that 
is  to  say,  in  the  parish  of  Saint-Roch,  and  it  was  in  that 
church  that  the  service  should  have  been  held.  The 
cure,  however,  flatly  refused  to  celebrate  it.  "  Actors," 
said  he,  "  are  excommunicated,  and  the  time  has  come 
to  revert  to  the  rigorous  execution  of  the  canons  of  the 
Church."  It  was  in  vain  that  he  was  reminded  of  the 
never-failing  charity  of  the  deceased  woman  towards 
the  poor  of  his  parish,  and  the  generous  gift  which 
he  himself  had  received  each  year  for  the  needs  of  his 
church.  He  remained  deaf  to  all  representations  and 
entrenched  himself  behind  the  orders  of  the  Archbishop 
of  Paris. 

To  obtain  justice,  the  members  of  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise  addressed  a  petition  to  the  King,  but  the 
morning  of  the  interment  came  without  bringing  an 
answer  from  his  Majesty.  In  the  meanwhile,  the  news 
of  the  refusal  of  the  cure  of  Saint-Roch  to  accord 
ecclesiastical  burial  to  the  remains  of  the  great  actress  had 
become  common  knowledge  and  had  aroused  widespread 
indignation.  An  enormous  crowd,  numbering  fully 
15,000  persons,  assembled  in  the  Rue  du  Helder  and  the 
adjoining  streets,  among  which  might  be  observed  several 
actors  of  the  Comedie  in  the  uniform  of  the  National 
Guards.  At  the  moment  when  the  cortege  left  the  house, 
the  police  gave  the  order  to  proceed  directly  to  the 
cemetery ;  but  the  crowd  interfered  and  compelled  the 
hearse  to  drive  towards  Saint-Roch.  On  entering  the 
Rue  de  la  Michodiere,  a  police-officer  rushed  to  the  horses' 
heads,  to  turn  them  in  the  direction  of  the  boulevard,  but 
was  roughly  pushed  aside  ;  and  the  procession,  growing  in 
size  every  moment,  pursued  its  way  towards  Saint-Roch. 


192  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

When  the  church  was  reached,  the  principal  door 
was  found  closed,  a  circumstance  which  threw  the  mob 
into  a  frenzy  of  anger.  Some  proposed  to  break  down 
the  door,  others  to  carry  the  corpse  to  the  Tuileries 
or  the  archbishop's  palace ;  while  cries  of  "  Le  cure 
a  la  lanterne ! "  were  raised,  and  if  that  intolerant 
ecclesiastic  had  had  the  temerity  to  show  himself,  it 
is  to  be  feared  that  he  would  have  been  very  roughly 
handled. 

The  actors  in  the  procession,  alarmed  at  all  this 
uproar,  the  blame  for  which,  they  feared,  would  be  laid 
upon  them,  took  advantage  of  a  moment  when  the  more 
violent  section  of  the  crowd  was  occupied  in  endeavour- 
ing to  force  the  great  door  of  the  church,  to  make  the 
cortege  resume  its  progress  towards  Pere-Lachaise.  The 
mob,  however,  gave  chase,  overtook  the  hearse  at  the  top 
of  the  Rue  Traversiere,  and  brought  it  back  in  triumph 
to  Saint-Roch. 

In  the  meanwhile,  a  deputation  had  started  for  the 
Tuileries ;  Louis  XVHL  consented  to  admit  it  to  his 
presence,  and  Huet,  an  actor  of  the  Opera-Comique, 
harangued  the  monarch  with  so  much  eloquence,  that, 
some  days  later,  he  received  an  intimation  that  a  course 
of  foreign  travel  might  not  be  without  benefit  to  his 
health.  However,  his  representations  had  the  desired 
effect  ;  for  the  King  promised  to  interfere  without 
delay,  sent  orders  to  the  cure  to  receive  the  body,  and, 
for  greater  security,  despatched  his  own  almoner  to  read 
the  service. 

The  orders  of  the  King  arrived  only  just  in  time 
to  prevent  a  serious  affray  between  the  infuriated  mob 
and  the  troops  who  had  been  summoned  to  quell  the 
disturbance.     The  great  door  was  then  opened,  and  the 


MADEMOISELLE  RAUCOURT  193 

coffin,  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  the  crowd,  was  carried 
to  the  foot  of  the  altar,  where  the  people  themselves 
lighted  the  candles.  The  almoner  of  the  Court  arrived, 
accompanied  by  two  choristers,  and  performed  the 
service,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  an  immense  con- 
course of  people  followed  the  cortege  as  far  as  Pere- 
Lachaise.^ 

^  M.  Gaston  Maugras,  Les  Comediens  hors  la  hi,  p.  460  et  seq. 


N 


IV 
MADAME   DUGAZON 


IV 

MADAME   DUGAZON 

When,  at  the  close  of  the  year  1774,  Justine  Favart 
retired  from  the  stage  of  the  Comedie-Italicnne,  to  die 
alas  !  a  few  months  later,  she  left  behind  her,  in  the 
person  of  a  young  girl  of  nineteen,  a  worthy  successor, 
whose  budding  talents  she  had  been  one  of  the  first  to 
recognise  and  encourage. 

Louise  Rosalie  Lefevre,  known  to  fame  as  Madame 
Dugazon,  was  born,  at  Berlin,  on  June  18,  1755,  of 
French  parents.  Her  father,  Francois  Joseph  Lefevre, 
was  a  dancing-master,  formerly  of  the  Comedie-Italienne, 
and  when,  in  1767,  the  little  Louise,  who  had  been  from  a 
very  early  age  destined  for  the  stage,  made  her  first  appear- 
ance on  the  boards  of  that  theatre,  it  was  as  a  danseuse 
in  a  pas  de  deux  introduced  into  the  Nouvelle  Ecole  des 
jemmes^  a  comedy  in  three  acts  and  in  prose,  by  Moissy. 

It  was  not,  however,  as  a  danseuse  that  Louise  Lefevre 
was  to  attain  her  immense  reputation.  Ere  long  her 
grace,  refinement,  and  command  of  facial  expression 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  composer  Gretry,  who 
after  some  conversation  with  her,  promised  her  a  part 
in  his  next  opera.  He  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  when, 
in  1769,  he  produced  his  Lucile^  it  was  for  the  little 
Lefevre  that  he  composed  the  pretty  air  : 

"  On  dit  qu'i  quinze  ans." 
The  grace,  charm,  and  naivete  with  which  she  rendered 


198  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

it  decided  her  future.  Pleased  at  finding  his  previsions 
confirmed,  the  composer  advised  her  to  devote  herself 
seriously  to  the  study  of  music,  promising  that  he  would 
bear  her  in  mind  ;  and  from  that  day  the  girl  "  divided 
her  time  between  dancing,  which  was  her  duty,  and  the 
study  of  music,  which  was  her  passion."  ■•• 

She  was  fortunate  in  her  teachers,  particularly  in 
Madame  Favart,  who,  with  a  magnanimity  far  from 
common  on  the  stage,  did  all  in  her  power  to  aid  and 
encourage  the  young  aspirant.  The  lessons  were  not 
thrown  away,  nor  was  the  pupil  wanting  in  gratitude ; 
for  even  in  her  old  age,  when  she  had  retired  from  the 
theatre,  Madame  Dugazon  could  not  mention  the  name 
of  Justine  Favart  without  tears  in  her  eyes. 

At  length,  on  June  19,  1774,  Mile.  Lefevre  was 
promoted  to  a  definite  part,  that  of  Pauline,  in  Syhain, 
words  by  Marmontel,  music  by  Gretry.  Her  success 
was  instantaneous,  unprecedented.  At  a  single  bound, 
she  attained  the  highest  rank,  an  elevation  from  which 
she  never  afterwards  descended.  Never  in  the  history 
of  the  Comedie-Italienne  had  such  talent  been  exhibited 
by  so  young  an  actress,  and  never  had  talent  been  so 
keenly  appreciated  by  its  patrons.  It  sufl&ced  for  her 
to  undertake  the  principal  part  in  any  new  work  to 
ensure  for  it  a  favourable,  if  not  a  triumphant,  reception. 
Les  Evenements  imprevus,  UAmant  jaloux,  Les  Amours 
d''ete,  and  many  other  pieces  owed  the  vogue  which  they 
enjoyed  entirely  to  her  masterly  impersonations. 

Four   days   after   her   appearance   in    Syhain^    Mile. 

Lefevre  was   received   a   Pessai,   with   a   salary  of   1800 

livres,  which,   in   the   following  April,  was   increased   to 

2400   livres.     But   promotion   was   slow   in   those    days, 

'  Gaboriau,  Les  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  151. 


MADAME  DUGAZON  199 

even  for  the  most  brilliant  talents,  and  it  was  not  until 
April  7,  1776,  that  she  became  a  societaire.^ 

But  long  before  this — almost,  indeed,  from  the  even- 
ing on  which  she  had  first  played  Pauline — the  public 
had  taken  her  to  its  heart.  People  seemed  never  tired 
of  lauding  "  her  sympathetic  voice,  her  exquisite  sensi- 
bility, her  gaiety,  which  was  so  contagious,  her  acting, 
which  was  so  tender  and  impassioned."  Some  enthu- 
siasts even  went  so  far  as  to  declare  that  such  remarkable 
talent  must  be  the  product  of  some  divine  inspiration. 

Mile.  Lefevre  was  not  strictly  beautiful,  but  "  adorably 
pretty,"  dainty,  and  refined.  She  had  delicate  features, 
a  mobile  face,  "  and  an  expressive  mouth,  sometimes 
mocking,  sometimes  pouting."  But  her  greatest  charm 
seems  to  have  been  her  splendid  eyes,  fringed  with  long 
lashes,  which,  in  turn,  "  shone  with  mischief  and  gaiety, 
or  closed  in  order  to  allow  the  soft  tears  to  flow."  Her 
figure,  we  are  told,  "  without  being  tall,  was  well-pro- 
portioned, and  all  her  movements  were  characterised 
by  a  peculiar  charm." 

Naturally,  she  was  speedily  surrounded  by  a  throng 
of  adorers.  No  actress  of  the  time  was  so  sought  after, 
courted,  adulated.  "Jupiters  of  all  conditions  solicited 
the  honour  of  descending  at  her  feet  in  a  shower  of 
gold."  The  most  brilliant  propositions  were  made  to 
her  :  furnished  hotels,  gorgeous  equipages,  ravishing 
toilettes,  parures  of  diamonds,  together  with  the  hearts, 
if  not  the  hands,  of  the  noblest  in  the  land,  were  at  her 
disposal.  She  repulsed  them  all ;  she  had  decided  to 
marry — to  marry  in  her  own  profession.  And  her  choice 
fell  upon  Dugazon,  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise. 

'  Campardon,  Lcs  Comediens  du  Rot  de  la  Troupe  italienne :  Article, 
"  Dugazon." 


200  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

A  singular  character  was  this  Dugazon.  Born  at 
Maiseilles,  in  1749,  he  made  his  first  appearance  on  the 
Paris  stage  in  1771,  and  at  once  succeeded  in  ingratiating 
himself  with  his  audience.  Handsome  and  well  made, 
he  united  to  a  profound  knowledge  of  his  art  and  a  wealth 
of  humour,  a  physiognomy  of  extraordinary  flexibility, 
which  he  could  so  change  at  any  moment  that  it  seemed 
as  if  he  had  put  on  a  mask.  "  By  the  play  or  the  contrac- 
tion of  certain  muscles  of  his  face,  he  possessed  the 
faculty  of  disfiguring  himself  instantly  and  so  completely 
as  to  become  unrecognisable."  There  can  be  no  ques- 
tion that  he  was  a  great  comedian,  though  his  style  was 
in  the  spirit  of  farce  rather  than  of  comedy,  and  by  the 
side  of  Preville,  who,  with  all  his  vivacity,  never  con- 
descended to  what  was  low  or  trivial,  he  must  have 
appeared  a  mere  caricaturist.  But  in  broad  comedy 
he  was  unsurpassed,  and  in  the  farces  of  Scarron  and  Le 
Grand,  as  Scapin  in  the  Fourberies,  Monsieur  Jourdain 
in  the  Bourgeois  Gentilhomme,  Mascarille  in  VEtourdi, 
and  Sganerelle  in  Don  Juan,  no  actor  of  the  time  could 
even  approach  him. 

But  if  the  actor  was  excellent,  the  man  was  altogether 
insupportable.  In  the  cafe  or  the  tavern,  a  quarrelsome 
braggart,  as  ready  with  his  sword  as  with  his  tongue. 
In  the  salon — for,  in  his  character  of  privileged  buffoon, 
he  was  admitted  into  the  highest  circles — a  rude  jester, 
who  respected  neither  age  nor  sex,  and  who  took  the 
most  outrageous  liberties  with  every  one  who  did  not 
make  him  keep  his  distance.  Many  are  the  stories  told 
of  his  eccentricities,  one  at  least  of  which  will  bear 
repetition  here. 

One  day  the  actor  received  a  summons  to  Versailles, 
from  Louis  XVI.  himself.     Wondering  much  what  his 


MADAME   DUGAZON  201 

sovereign  could  require  of  him,  he  repaired  thither, 
and,  on  his  arrival,  was  ushered  into  the  King's  cabinet, 
where  he  found  his  Majesty  alone.  The  King  bade  him 
be  seated,  and  then  informed  him  that  he  required  his 
assistance  in  a  matter  closely  concerning  the  dignity  of 
the  Royal  Family.  He  was,  said  he,  extremely  dis- 
pleased at  her  Majesty  continuing  to  attend  the  balls 
at  the  Opera,  in  the  face  of  his  oft-expressed  disapproval 
of  these  gatherings.  He  had  therefore  bethought  him 
of  a  means  of  curing  her  of  this  deplorable  weakness  for 
mixed  society.  Dugazon  must  attend  th.  next  ball, 
in  disguise,  treat  the  august  lady  as  if  she  were  nothing 
but  a  common  bourgeoise,  and  so  shock  and  disgust  her 
that  she  would  never  care  to  attend  another. 

Dugazon  obeyed  with  alacrity ;  the  commission 
entrusted  to  him  was  one  after  his  own  heart.  At  the 
next  ball  he  appeared  disguised  as  a  fishwife,  a  veritable 
virago  of  the  Halles,  foul  of  tongue,  unkempt  and  dirty, 
and,  taking  the  Queen  aside,  behaved  to  her — it  was  the 
King's  express  command,  be  it  remembered — with  such 
outrageous  coarseness  and  familiarity  that  the  spectators 
were  absolutely  horrified. 

Next  morning,  the  King  slyly  inquired  how  her 
Majesty  had  enjoyed  herself  the  previous  evening. 

"  Never,"  answered  Marie  Antoinette,  laughing 
heartily,  "  never  was  I  so  much  diverted  as  yesterday  !  " 

The  marriage  between  Louise  Lefevre  and  Dugazon 
was  celebrated  at  Saint-Eustache  on  August  20,  1776. 
It  was  not  a  happy  one.  The  husband  was  bad-tempered, 
exacting,  and  jealous  ;  the  wife  pleasure-loving,  coquet- 
tish and  self-willed.  Before  the  honeymoon  was  well 
over,  they  were  quarrelling  like  cat  and  dog.     Before  a 


202  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

year  had  passed,  their  domestic  differences  were  the  talk 
of  Paris.  Madame's  marriage  vows  weighed  very  hghtly 
upon  her,  and  she  made  but  small  attempt  to  disguise 
her  amours  ;  Monsieur  went  about,  complaining  to 
every  one  whom  he  could  persuade  to  listen  to  him  of  his 
wife's  conduct,  and  boasting  of  the  terrible  retribution 
he  intended  for  her  lovers. 

In  1778,  there  was  a  grave  scandal.  A  certain  M. 
de  Cazes,  a  young  maitre  des  requites,  fell  madly  in  love 
with  Madame  Dugazon,  who  condescended  to  recipro- 
cate his  passion.  In  order  to  conceal  their  intrigue  and, 
at  the  same  time,  facilitate  their  interviews,  M.  de  Cazes 
presented  the  Dugazons  to  his  father,  a  wealthy  farmer- 
general,  who  invited  them  to  his  house,  where  actor 
and  magistrate  often  performed  scenes  from  popular 
comedies  for  the  entertainment  of  the  company.  Their 
most  diverting  performance,  however,  took  place  in 
private,  a  fact  to  be  regretted,  since  it  must  have  been 
worth  going  a  very  long  way  to  see. 

Dugazon  had  for  some  time  suspected  the  motive 
of  his  introduction  to  this  family  and  the  very  cordial 
reception  which  had  been  accorded  him.  But  the 
guilty  pair  had  observed  so  much  discretion  that  he  had 
not  a  particle  of  evidence  to  justify  his  interference  and 
was,  therefore,  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed.  Jealousy,  how- 
ever, prompted  him  to  a  bold  move.  One  morning, 
M.  de  Cazes  was  in  his  cabinet,  dreaming  of  his  in- 
amorata, when  Dugazon  entered  unannounced,  and, 
locking  the  door  behind  him,  drew  a  pistol  from  his 
pocket,  held  it  to  the  young  man's  head,  informed  him 
that  he  knew  everything,  and  that  he  would  blow  out 
his  brains  on  the  instant,  if  he  did  not  immediately 
deliver  up  his  wife's  portrait  and  letters. 


^- 


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•-Si^fei 


MADAME  DUGAZON 
From  an  engraving  by  MoNSAi  in  after  the  painting  by  Jkan  Baptiste  Isabey 


MADAME  DUGAZON  203 

The  unfortunate  gallant  believed  that  Madame 
Dugazon  had  made  a  confession  to  her  husband  or  that 
in  some  way  he  had  been  betrayed,  and,  in  fear  and 
trembling,  handed  over  both  portrait  and  letters  to  his 
assailant,  who  retired,  enchanted  with  the  success  of 
his  expedition. 

No  sooner,  however,  had  the  actor  and  his  pistol 
departed,  than  M.  de  Cazes's  alarm  gave  way  to  indigna- 
tion, and  he  followed  in  pursuit,  shouting  :  "  Thief  ! 
Assassin  !  Stop  the  villain  !  "  And  the  servants,  roused 
by  his  cries,  came  running  to  the  spot. 

Dugazon,  who  was  leisurely  descending  the  stairs, 
turned  round,  and,  in  no  way  disconcerted,  coolly 
replied  :  "  Perfect,  Monsieur  ;  admirably  played  !  The 
scene  is  excellent  !  The  servants  would  be  quite  deceived 
by  it,  were  they  not  accustomed  to  our  farces."  Then, 
without  quickening  his  pace,  he  passed  through  the 
astonished  lackeys — who,  uncertain  whether  it  was  a 
comedy  or  not,  did  not  dare  to  lay  hands  on  him — gained 
the  door,  made  the  discomfited  magistrate  a  profound 
conge^  and  swaggered  off. 

Some  days  later,  M.  de  Cazes  happened  to  be  on  the 
stage  of  the  Comedie-Italienne,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
performance,  and  was  there  espied  by  Dugazon,  who 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  read  his  wife's 
admirer  a  second  lesson.  Accordingly,  he  waited  until  the 
crowd  had  dispersed  and  he  was  unobserved,  and  then, 
stealing  up  behind  the  maitre  des  requHes,  dealt  him 
four  or  five  sharp  cuts  across  the  shoulders  with  a  cane. 

The  luckless  young  man  turned  round,  furious  with 
rage  and  pain,  and,  perceiving  his  "  rival,"  poured  forth 
a  torrent  of  abuse  and  threats. 

The  actor,  quite  unmoved,  begged  him  to  explain 


204  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

himself  and  inquired,   with  a  bland  smile,  if  he  were 
rehearsing  a  tirade  from  some  play. 

The  infuriated  magistrate  rejoined  by  calling  Dugazon 
"  an  assassin,"  and  asserting  that  he  had  just  dealt  him 
several  blows  with  a  cane. 

The  latter  assumed  an  air  of  injured  innocence, 
assured  M.  de  Cazes  that  he  must  be  labouring  under 
some  extraordinary  delusion,  and  inquired  how  he  could 
possibly  imagine  that  a  poor  player  like  himself  should 
have  been  guilty  of  so  shocking  an  outrage. 

As  there  were  no  witnesses  to  the  assault,  and  M.  de 
Cazes  had  no  mind  to  give  the  actor,  who  was  an  expert 
swordsman,  the  satisfaction  of  running  him  through  the 
body,  the  affair  went  no  further.  Dugazon,  however, 
did  not  fail  to  boast  everywhere  he  went  of  the  thrashing 
he  had  inflicted  on  madame's  lover  ;  conduct  which,  the 
Memoires  secrets  tell  us,  "  revolted  honourable  men." 

If  Dugazon  had  taken  upon  himself  to  detect  and 
punish  all  his  wife's  infidelities,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  he 
would  have  had  but  little  time  to  devote  to  his  profes- 
sional duties.  "  The  singing-bird  had  taken  flight  and 
returned  but  seldom  to  the  conjugal  nest."  However, 
for  a  time,  he  did  his  best,  and,  in  the  course  of  the 
following  year,  had  an  affray  at  the  house  of  Salle, 
the  director  of  the  winter  Vauxhall,  with  the  Marquis 
de  Langeac,  who  had  succeeded  M.  de  Cazes  in  the 
actress's  affections. 

Dugazon  had  written  an  angry  letter  to  his  wife, 
reminding  the  lady  of  her  numerous  escapades  and  bitterly 
reproaching  her  with  having  accepted  the  homage  of 
M.  de  Langeac,  to  whom  he  alluded  in  terms  of  the  most 
unmitigated  contempt.  This  letter  Madame  Dugazon 
promptly    handed    to    the    marquis,    who,    talking    the 


MADAME  DUGAZON  205 

matter  over  with  his  friend  Salle,  announced  his  intention 
of  subjecting  the  actor  to  "  a  hundred  blows  with  his 
cane,"  on  the  very  next  occasion  on  which  they  should 
chance  to  meet.  Scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  his 
mouth,  when  the  object  of  his  resentment,  who  had  been 
an  unseen  auditor  of  all  that  he  had  said,  stood  before 
him,  and,  with  a  profound  bow,  intimated  that  he  was 
entirely  at  Monsieur  le  Marquis's  service. 

The  marquis  replied  with  a  blow  from  his  fist ;  the 
actor  returned  the  compliment  with  interest,  and  an 
Homeric  combat  was  in  progress,  when  the  bystanders 
interfered  and  separated  the  parties. 

This  adventure  had  no  more  consequences  than  the 
other.  Dugazon,  who,  to  do  him  justice,  was  no  coward, 
would  have  been  only  too  ready  to  continue  the  battle 
in  the  manner  prescribed  by  the  etiquette  of  that  day. 
But  M.  de  Langeac,  a  notorious  poltroon — he  had, 
some  time  before,  taken,  without  any  attempt  at  retalia- 
tion, a  severe  thrashing  from  Guerin,  the  Prince  de 
Conti's  surgeon — sheltered  himself  behind  his  rank 
and  declined  to  cross  swords  with  an  actor. 

His  affray  with  the  Marquis  de  Langeac  appears  to 
have  been  the  last  occasion  on  which  Dugazon  attempted 
to  avenge  his  honour.  He  resigned  himself  to  the  situa- 
tion ;  and  when,  soon  afterwards,  the  "  singing-bird  " 
flew  away  altogether  and  established  herself  in  a  gilded 
cage  prepared  for  her  by  a  rich  financier  of  the  name  of 
Boudreau,  received  the  news  with  fashionable  com- 
placency. From  that  time,  husband  and  wife  never 
lived  together  again,  and,  when  the  Revolution  came, 
both  hastened  to  avail  themselves  of  the  law  permitting 
divorce. 

Madame  Dugazon  had  barely  remained  long  enough 


2o6  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

in  the  gilded  cage  to  take  stock  of  all  the  marvels  of  art 
and  decoration  which  the  amorous  financier  had  provided 
for  her  benefit,  when  she  fell  in  love  with  a  foreign  count, 
whose  name  the  chroniclers  of  scandal,  with  a  discre- 
tion very  uncommon  with  them,  forbear  to  mention, 
and  left  poor  M.  Boudreau  to  meditate  upon  the 
inconstancy  of  woman.  This  last  affair  would  appear 
to  have  been  a  serious  one,  on  the  lady's  part,  at  any 
rate  ;  but  it  was  of  very  brief  duration,  as  the  count  was 
suddenly  recalled  to  his  own  country,  and  she  saw  him 
no  more. 

Consolation,  however,  was  not  long  in  forthcoming. 
Her  lover's  departure  happened  to  synchronise  with  the 
arrival  from  Bordeaux  of  a  handsome  youth  of  eighteen, 
*'  with  the  most  interesting  face  conceivable,  and  the  most 
surprising,  the  most  wonderful  voice  possible  to  imagine." 
Without  knowing  a  single  note  of  music,  he  could  imitate 
the  voice  of  every  singer  of  the  Opera  and  the  sound  of 
every  instrument  in  the  orchestra,  so  perfectly  as  to 
deceive  even  the  most  experienced  ear.  By  himself,  it 
was  said,  he  could  imitate  an  entire  opera.  This  prodigy, 
Garat  by  name,  aroused  a  perfect  furore  in  fashionable,  as 
well  as  in  musical  circles,  and  after  Marie  Antoinette 
had  sent  a  coach  and  six  to  fetch  him  to  Versailles, 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  ladies  was  raised  to  the  highest 
pitch  ;  they  literally  fought  for  him.  Madame  Dugazon 
bore  away  the  prize,  and  is  believed  to  have  given  the 
youthful  singer  lessons  in  his  art  as  well  as  in  love.  But 
she  could  not  long  retain  possession  of  "  this  brilliant 
butterfly,  who  had  only  to  open  his  wings  to  alight  upon 
the  most  beautiful  flowers,"  and,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  was  fated  to  taste  something  of  the  mortification 
which  she  had  so  often  occasioned. 


MADAME  DUGAZON  207 

From  these  discreditable  gallantries,  it  is  a    relief  to 
turn  to  Madame  Dugazon's   professional  career,  which, 
happily,   seems   to  have  been  no   more  affected  by  the 
irregularities   of   her   private   life    than   those   of   Mile. 
Clairon  and  Madeleine  Guimard.     The  enthusiasm  vi^ith 
which  even  the  most  fastidious  of  her  contemporaries 
acclaim  her  talent  is  truly  remarkable.     "  I  have  often," 
writes    Bouilly,    "  admired    Madame    Saint-Huberty,  at 
the  Opera,  in  lyric  tragedy,  Mile.  Raucourt  in  the  master- 
pieces of  our  French  stage,  and  the  brilliant  Mile.  Contat 
in  comedy ;    but  not  one  of  these  celebrated  women 
united,  in  my  opinion,  that  variety  of  perfections,  that 
incomprehensible  medley  of  pathos  and  gaiety,  of  noble- 
ness  and   simplicity,  of  finesse    and   naturalness,  which 
made  Madame  Dugazon  admired  in  the  different  roles 
wherein,  in  turn,  she  showed  herself  princess  and  peasant, 
soubrettc    and    tender    mother,    ingenue    and    coquette, 
wealthy  woman  and  poor  one.     She  seized  with  an  ad- 
mirable fidelity  upon  all  the  shades  of  Nature,  all  the 
movements  of  the  human  heart,  all  the  inspirations  of 
the    most    eager   imagination.  .  .  .  One   was,    in    turn, 
moved,    ravished,    transported ;     from    tears    the    most 
abundant  one  passed  to  laughter  the  most  irrepressible, 
from  terror  to  gaiety  the  most  natural  and  the   most 
infectious ;   one  passed,  in  a  word,  through  all  the  wind- 
ings of  the  human  heart ;    one  experienced  all  the  sensa- 
tions  which   leave   a    perfect    remembrance.     And    this 
was  the  work  of  one  woman,  whose  admirable  intelligence 
did  not  cease  to  be  the  interpreter  of  Nature,  whose 
talent,  flexible  and  always  natural,  was  cited  by  authors 
and  friends  of  the  art  as  the  most  perfect  model  possessed 
by  our  lyric  stage."  ^ 

'  Mes  Rchcptulatms,  i.  124. 


2o8  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

And  Madame  Vigee  Lebrun  says  : 

"  And  now  I  come  to  her  whose  dramatic  career  I 
have  followed  from  beginning  to  end,  to  the  most  perfect 
actress  ever  possessed  by  the  Opera-Comique,  to  Madame 
Dugazon.  Hers  was  a  natural  talent,  which  owed  nothing 
apparently  to  study.  Noble,  naive,  graceful,  piquant, 
she  had  twenty  faces,  and  always  suited  her  accent  to 
the  person  she  represented  at  the  time.  Her  voice  was 
somewhat  weak,  but  she  adapted  it  equally  well  to  tears, 
laughter,  and  every  situation."  ^ 

That  Madame  Dugazon  was  far  greater  as  an  actress 
than  as  a  vocalist  there  can,  we  think,  be  no  question. 
The  father  of  French  opera-comique,  Gretry,  gives  it 
as  his  opinion  that  she  was  not  a  singer  at  all,  but  "  an 
actress  who  spoke  song  with  the  truest  and  most  passionate 
expression."  And  Boieldieu,  the  author  of  La  Dame 
Blanche,  says  much  the  same.  "  What  an  astonishing 
woman !  "  he  exclaimed,  after  the  first  performance  of 
Le  Calife  de  Bagdad.  "  They  say  that  she  does  not 
understand  music  ;  yet  I  never  heard  any  one  sing  with 
such  taste  and  expression,  such  nature  and  fidelity."  ^ 

Madame  Dugazon's  voice  indeed,  though  limited 
in  range,  was  pure  and  flexible  and  of  an  enchanting  tone, 
and,  as  was  the  case  with  Garat,  her  natural  endowments 
far  outweighed  the  disadvantages  of  a  deficient  musical 
education. 

To  recall  all  the  successes  of  this  charming  actress, 
it  would  be  necessary,  as  M.  Campardon  very  truly 
remarks,  to  cite  practically  the  whole  repertoire  of  the 
Comedie-Italienne,  and  we  will,  therefore,  confine  our- 
selves to  those  of  her  "  creations  "  upon  which  con- 
temporary writers  have  left  us  the  fullest  information. 

'  Srnivetiirs,  i.  94.  ^  Thurner,  Les  Rcines  de  Chant,  p.  66. 


MADAME  DUGAZON  209 

An  opera  called  Blaise  et  Babet,  libretto  by  Monvel, 
music  by  Desaides,  produced  on  June  30,  1783,  marks 
the  commencement  of  the  most  brilliant  period  of  her 
career.  This  little  work  provided  Madame  Dugazon 
with  a  magnificent  triumph.  "  What  fine  and  delicate 
shades,"  writes  Grimm,  "  does  the  voice  of  Madame 
Dugazon  impart,  in  this  role  of  Babet,  to  the  most 
simple  expressions  !  There  is  not  one  of  her  inflections, 
there  is  not  a  movement  in  her  acting,  which  does  not 
add  to  the  movement  of  the  scene,  and  does  not  vary 
it  with  as  much  truth  as  grace."  ^  And  the  critic  of  the 
Mercure  writes  :  "  It  is  difficult  to  describe  all  the  shades 
of  talent  that  Madame  Dugazon  has  developed  in  the  role 
of  Babet.  Natural,  comical,  naive,  intelligent,  sensible, 
she  has  not  allowed  one  of  the  traits  which  make  up  the 
character  of  the  person  whom  she  represents  to  escape." 

The  third  performance  of  Blaise  et  Babet  was  graced 
by  the  presence  of  the  Queen,  who  was  so  enchanted 
with  the  part  played  by  Madame  Dugazon  that  she 
forthwith  resolved  to  act  it  herself,  and  soon  afterwards 
the  piece  was  presented  at  the  royal  theatre  at  Trianon, 
with  Marie  Antoinette  as  Babet.  Madame  Dugazon 
and  Fleury  were  summoned  to  Court  to  preside  over 
the  rehearsals  and  aid  the  Queen  with  their  counsels. 
Nor  were  their  pains  thrown  away,  for,  if  we  are  to  believe 
the  Fleury  Memoires,  her  Majesty's  rendering  of  Babet 
almost  equalled  that  of  the  actress  herself : 

"  She  was  a  thousand  times  to  be  applauded,  when 
she  was  vexed,  crushed  her  flowers,  threw  them  into 
the  basket,  and  exclaimed,  with  the  most  charming  toss 
of  her  head :  '  Tu  m  ^as  fait  endever  .  .  .  endeve  .  .  . 
endeve  I ' 

^  Correspandance  litteraire,  xi.  417. 

o 


2IO  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  It  was  such  a  delightful  medley  of  pouting  and 
sentiment,  of  tears  and  vexation,  of  anger  and  love,  that 
I  saw  proud  courtiers  moved  by  it,  and,  courtiers  though 
they  were,  forget  to  applaud,  because  they  were  weeping." 

The  comedy  entitled  Alexis  et  Justine,  by  the  same 
authors,  produced  on  January  17,  1785,  was  for  Madame 
Dugazon,  who  played  the  part  of  Justine,  the  occasion 
of  another  triumph,  which  Grimm  records  in  these 
terms  : 

"  Madame  Dugazon  has  just  developed  a  new  kind 
of  talent  in  the  role  of  Justine,  It  was  difficult  to  unite 
to  this  degree  the  most  lively  and  the  most  passionate 
sensibility  with  a  naivete  the  most  sweet  and  the  most 
attractive.  This  charming  actress  has  been  truly  elo- 
quent in  the  scene  of  the  second  act  with  M.  de  Longpre. 
Our  best  tragediennes  could  not  render  with  more  energy 
and  with  variations  more  just  and  more  profound  all 
the  sentiment  of  this  part,  one  of  the  most  pathetic 
that  has  ever  been  seen  on  the  stage."  ^ 

In  November  of  the  same  year,  was  produced  La 
Dot,  a  comedy  in  three  acts  by  Desfontaines,  music  by 
Dalayrac,  in  which  Madame  Dugazon  gave  so  charming 
a  rendering  of  the  part  of  the  heroine  Colette,  that  a 
poet,  who  elected  to  remain  anonymous,  but  who, 
M.  Campardon  thinks,  was,  in  all  probability,  the  author 
of  the  piece  himself,  thanked  her  in  the  following  verses 
for  the  pleasure  she  had  given  him  : 


C( 


Dis  moi  done  par  quelle  ma2;ie, 
Ne  changeant  au  plus  que  de  nom, 


'  Correspondance  litter  aire,  xii.  261.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  piece  on 
the  first  evening,  Madame  Dugazon  was  called  before  the  curtain,  "  an 
honour,"  say  the  Memoires  secrets,  "  which  had  never  yet  been  accorded 
to  any  actress  at  this  theatre  or  any  other." 


MADAME  DUGAZON  211 

Tu  fais,  a  la  voix  de  Thalie, 
Changer  de  maintien  et  de  ton  ? 
Babet  m'avoit  sembl6  parfaite, 
Je  Tadmirerois  a  chaque  trait, 
Et  depuis  que  j'ai  vu  Colette, 
Je  songe  un  peu  moins  h  Babet. 
Plus  naturelle  et  plus  sublime, 
Par  un  mot,  un  geste,  un  soupir. 
Tout  h  la  fois  Colette  exprime 
Le  sentiment  et  le  plaisir. 
Partout  c'est  la  v6rite  pure. 
Que  Colette  prends  sur  le  fait, 
Et  pour  dot  la  simple  nature 
Lui  fit  present  de  son  secret."  ^ 

Madame  Dugazon  now  found  herself  at  the  apogee 
of  her  talent,  and  it  appeared  hardly  possible  that  she 
could  soar  any  higher,  when,  in  May  1786,  her  creation 
of  the  part  of  Nina,  in  Nina,  ou  la  Folle  far  amour,  a 
drama  in  one  act,  by  Marsollier  de  Vivetieres,  music  by 
Dalayrac,  exhibited  her  in  a  new  light  and  excited  among 
the  Parisians  an  enthusiasm  almost  unprecedented. 

The    genesis    of    this    piece    is    interesting.     It    was 

suggested   to   Marsollier    by   a    touching   anecdote   of   a 

young  girl  who  had  lived  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Sedan. 

On  her  wedding  morning,  the  maiden  had  preceded  her 

lover   to   the   church   where   the   ceremony   was    to    be 

performed.     On  nearing  it,  she  was  met  by  a  friend,  who 

informed  her  that  the  young  man  had  been  seized  with 

a  sudden  attack  of  illness  and  was  dead.     The  grief  of 

the   unhappy   girl   was   such   that   she   lost   her   reason. 

Thenceforth,  until  her  own  death,  ten  years  later,  she 

walked  daily  more  than  two  leagues  to  the  spot  where 

'  V-}    :vv  '  .  .      .  ..  ^ 

'  Campardon,  Les  Comediens  du  Roi  de  la  Troupe  italienne  :    Article, 

'  Dugazon." 


212  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

she  had  arranged  to  meet  her  lover,  and,  on  arriving 
there,  would  sit  down  and  wait  for  him  the  entire  day. 
At  length,  when  the  shades  of  evening  were  falling,  she 
would  rise  and  retrace  her  steps,  exclaiming  :  "  Let  us 
go.     He  has  not  yet  arrived  ;   I  will  return  to-morrow." 

When  he  had  completed  the  libretto,  Marsollier 
sent  it  to  Dalayrac,  who,  quick  to  recognise  the  splendid 
possibilities  it  offered  for  musical  effect,  gladly  promised 
his  co-operation.  The  score  was  soon  written,  but,  for 
some  little  time,  the  authors  hesitated  to  submit  it  to 
the  Comedie-Italienne,  fearing  that  their  attempt  to 
depict  madness  on  the  stage  was  too  hazardous,  and  might 
expose  them  to  the  risk  of  a  disastrous  failure. 

While  they  were  still  in  doubt.  Mile.  Guimard  offered 
them  the  use  of  her  private  theatre,  in  the  Chaussee- 
d'Antin,  for  an  experimental  performance.  They  grate- 
fully accepted,  and  it  was  on  the  erotic  stage  of  the 
Temple  of  Terpsichore,  "  on  those  boards  whereon  the 
coryphees  of  the  fricassee  had  so  many  times  bounded," 
that  Madame  Dugazon  created  the  part  of  Nina,  before 
the  usual  mixed  audience  of  noblemen,  grandes  dames, 
and  courtesans.  The  result  was  a  prodigious,  an  astonish- 
ing success,  and,  on  May  15,  1786,  the  curtain  of  the 
Comedie-Italienne  rose  on  Nina,  ou  la  Folle  par  amour. 

The  creation  of  Nina  dominates  Madame  Dugazon's 
whole  career  and  eclipses  all  her  earlier  triumphs.  Never 
within  the  memory  of  man,  says  M.  Campardon,  had 
there  been  a  like  success.  The  actress  threw  into  the  part 
her  whole  soul,  and  it  was  very  often  remarked  that  on 
the  days  on  which  she  had  been  playing  Nina,  she  retained 
throughout  the  remainder  of  the  evening  the  haggard 
eyes  and  singular  gestures  of  the  unhappy  mad  woman 
whom   she  had  just  been  impersonating.     "  She  played 


MADAME  DUGAZON  213 

the  part,"  writes  Bouilly,  "  with  a  perfection  impossible 
to  describe  ;  one  must  have  seen  and  heard  her  to  form 
a  correct  idea  of  that  penetrating  voice,  of  tliat  frenzy, 
heartrending  and  yet  full  of  charm,  of  that  energy  of 
expression  which  thrilled  every  heart."  ^  Grimm  pro- 
nounces her  in  this  piece  superior  to  herself  and  to  all 
the  actresses  that  are  the  most  applauded  at  the  other 
theatres.  "  Never,"  says  he,  "  was  there  displayed  a 
sensibility  more  exquisite  and  more  profound.  Never 
did  any  one  know  how  to  assume  more  happily  the  most 
diverse  tones.  Never  did  any  one  vary  them  with  more 
correctness.  It  is  the  sensibility  of  her  acting  that 
decided  essentially  the  success  of  the  work,  for  the  tears 
which  she  has  caused  to  flow  do  not  prevent  one  from 
perceiving  that  it  leaves  much  to  desire."  ^ 

But  whatever  the  shortcomings  of  Nina  may  have 
been,  the  public  seemed  resolved  to  ignore  them,  and 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  the  work  and  its  "  inspired 
interpreter  "  were  received  passed  all  bounds.  "  When 
one  beheld  her,  her  hair  unbound,  her  eyes  staring,  a 
bouquet  in  her  hand,  advance  towards  the  grassy  bank 
near  which  she  awaits  her  '  hien-aime^  when  the  plaints 
of  the  poor  distracted  girl  were  translated  by  the  naive 
and  tender  music  of  Dalayrac,  it  seemed  as  if  emotion 
had  reached  its  limits.  One  wept  for  Nina,  as  one  wept 
for  Garat,  Miss  Billington,  Todi,  Maillard,  or  Saint- 
Huberty."  ^ 

The  tears,  the  applause,  baffled  all  description.  Six 
times  at  the  conclusion  of  the  play  was  the  "  sublime 
lunatic "     recalled.     The     public     could     not     applaud 

^  Mes  Recapitulations,  i.  125, 

'^  Correspondance  litteraire,  xiii,  132. 

^  Thurner,  Lts  Rei7ies  du  Chant,  p.  65. 


214  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

enough,  and  at  each  performance  the  enthusiasm 
increased  ;  it  seemed  inexhaustible.  Every  evening  the 
doors  of  the  theatre  were  besieged  by  an  enormous 
crowd.  "  Men  went  thither  to  be  moved  by  the  sorrows 
which  were  able  to  cause  such  abandon,  women  to  seek 
emotions  and  the  secret  of  tears."  Not  an  evening  passed 
without  some  lady  in  the  audience  swooning  with  emotion. 
Madness  became  on  a  sudden  the  fashionable  disease. 
In  the  salons  a  host  of  young  women  found  occupation 
in  playing  the  part  of  Nina,  and  some  of  them  appeared 
to  have  worked  themselves  into  a  condition  bordering 
on  lunacy.  The  critics  essayed  in  vain  to  combat  this 
ridiculous  infatuation.  They  pronounced  the  subject 
monstrous,  the  libretto  insipid,  the  music  detestable,  and 
loudly  bewailed  the  decay  of  art  upon  the  stage.  They 
might  have  saved  their  paper  and  ink.  The  public  con- 
tinued to  applaud  and  to  weep,  and  the  receipts  of  the 
Comedie-Italienne  to  increase.  "  It  seemed,"  remarks 
one  of  the  lady's  biographers,  "  that  each  spectator  was 
of  the  opinion  of  an  enthusiast  who,  on  the  evening  of 
the  first  representation,  improvised  the  following  verses 
in  honour  of  Nina-Dugazon  : 

"  *  Tous  les  coeurs  sont  emus  k  tes  divins  accords, 
On  ne  sait  qu'admirer,  ton  gdnie  ou  tes  charmes. 
Tu  pleures,  aussitot  tu  fais  couler  mes  larmes  : 
Qui  done  resterait  froid  a  tes  brAlants  transports  ? 
Mais  la  toile  se  baisse  et  la  pi^ce  est  finie, 

Aussitot  cesse  ta  folic, 
Mais  moi,  d'amour  pour  toi  perdre  la  raison.' "  ^ 

The  provinces,  in  their  turn,  desired  to  witness  this 
wonderful  work  and  to  applaud  the  idolised  actress  ; 
and  Madame  Dugazon,  accordingly,  paid  a  visit  to  Lyons, 

'  Gaboriau,  Lcs  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  163. 


MADAME  DUGAZON  215 

where  a  magnificent  reception  awaited  her.  Such  was 
the  enthusiasm  she  evoked  that  her  admirers  would  have 
liked  to  raise  a  triumphal  arch  in  her  honour,  but,  as  the 
city  authorities  did  not  quite  see  their  way  to  gratify 
this  desire,  they  were  fain  to  content  themselves  with 
composing  verses  in  her  praise,  which  were  read  upon  the 
stage,  crowning  her  with  flowers,  and  applauding  until 
the  rafters  rang. 

On  her  return  to  Paris,  Madame  Dugazon  found 
herself,  if  it  were  possible,  more  the  rage  than  ever,  and 
so  completely  did  her  popularity  eclipse  that  of  her  rivals, 
that,  on  the  evenings  on  which  she  did  not  appear,  the 
directors  of  the  Comedie-Italienne — that  nursery  of 
pretty  women — had  the  mortification  to  see  the  boxes 
empty  and  their  theatre  a  desert.  Their  consternation, 
therefore,  may  be  imagined  when,  towards  the  end  of 
that  year,  the  lady,  without  a  moment's  warning,  set  out 
for  London. 

It  was  at  first  believed  that  she  had  been  enticed 
away  by  magnificent  offers  from  London  managers,  but 
it  subsequently  transpired  that  love  and  not  money 
had  drawn  her  to  England  ;  that  she  had  gone  thither 
in  the  company  of  a  young  man  with  whom  she  had  fallen 
desperately  in  love,  whether  an  Englishman  or  one  of 
her  own  countrymen  contemporary  chroniclers  do  not 
tell  us. 

The  directors  were  in  despair  and  wrote  letter  upon 
letter,  commanding — for  she  had  departed  without 
obtaining  the  necessary  conge — requesting,  finally  im- 
ploring her  to  return.  But  the  actress  replied  that  she 
was  very  content  where  she  was  and  that  they  might 
dispose  of  her  roles.  In  vain  they  attempted  to  replace 
her.     In  vain  the  beautiful  Madame  Pitrot,  the  pretty 


2i6  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Lescot,  and  the  charming  Colombe  tried  their  fascina- 
tions upon  the  audience.  The  public  would  have  none 
of  them  ;  scarcely  could  they  obtain  a  single  plaudit. 
And  night  after  night  the  curtain  rose  upon  empty 
benches. 

At  length,  Madame  Dugazon,  wearying  of  London 
or  of  love — or  of  both — condescended  to  return,  and, 
with  her,  came  Fortune  once  more  to  the  Comedie- 
Italienne.  The  empty  boxes,  the  deserted  farUrre^ 
filled  as  if  by  magic,  the  theatre  once  more  rang  with 
applause,  and  the  directors,  who  had  lately  seen  ruin 
staring  them  in  the  face,  were  all  smiles  and  good-humour 
as  they  complacently  regarded  their  swelling  coffers. 

Advancing  years  brought  no  decline  in  the  popularity 
of  Madame  Dugazon.  Unlike  the  great  majority  of 
actresses,  who  persist  in  clinging  to  the  very  last  to  the 
genre  in  which  they  first  attained  celebrity,  she  was 
quick  to  realise  the  incongruity  of  a  woman  whose  youth 
was  long  past,  and  whose  figure  had  begun  to  show  a 
decided  tendency  to  embonfoint,  continuing  to  imper- 
sonate juvenile  heroines,  and,  accordingly,  resolved  to 
devote  herself  to  the  representation  of  young  matrons. 
Anxious  to  retain  the  services  of  an  actress  who  assured 
the  success  of  every  work  in  which  she  appeared,  the 
directors  of  the  Comedie-Italienne  readily  entered  into 
her  views,  and  provided  her  with  the  parts  she  desired. 
Her  success  in  the  matronly  style  was  phenomenal,  and 
her  triumph  in  Camille^  ou  le  souterrain  almost  equalled 
that  which  she  had  obtained  in  Nina. 

Notwishstanding  the  laxity  of  her  morals,  Madame 
Dugazon,  in  private  life,  possessed  many  amiable  qualities. 
Gay,  light-hearted,  and  witty,  though  without  a  spark 


MADAME  DUGAZON  217 

of  malice,  she  was  as  popular  off  the  stage  as  upon  it  ; 
while,  if  she  were  faithful  neither  to  husband  nor  lover, 
she  was,  nevertheless,  a  staunch  friend,  who  endeared 
herself  to  a  very  large  circle  of  acquaintances.  All  the 
authors  and  composers  who  worked  for  her  seemed  to 
have  held  her  in  the  highest  esteem  :  Gretry,  Sedaine, 
Etienne,  Marsollier,  Dalayrac,  Laujon,  and  many  others 
remained  to  the  last  sincerely  attached  to  her.  Always 
sympathetic  and  ready  to  oblige,  her  advice  was  never 
sought  in  vain,  and  more  than  one  young  writer  was 
indebted  for  his  first  success  to  the  hints  which  he  had 
received  from  the  experienced  actress.  Bouilly,  who 
cherished  for  her  the  most  lively  gratitude  and  affection, 
declared  that  he  owed  everything  to  her.^ 

Although  never  wealthy,  for  not  even  the  most 
talented  actress  or  singer  of  those  days  could  hope  for 
more  than  a  modest  competence,  while  none  of  her 
numerous  love-affairs,  if  we  except  the  very  brief  one 
with  M.  Boudreau,  seem  to  have  been  prompted  by  any 
mercenary  consideration,  she  was  charitable  to  the  utmost 
limit  of  her  means,  and  was  ever  ready  to  relieve  those 
in  distress.  It  was  at  her  instigation  that,  during  the 
severe  winter  of  1784^  special  performances  were  organised 
for  the  benefit  of  the  suffering  poor  and  a  very  large  sum 
realised,  which  was  duly  handed  over  to  the  Church  for 
distribution.  The  Church,  we  are  told,  was  very  grateful 
for  this  timely  assistance.  But,  with  her  usual  intoler- 
ance where  the  theatrical  profession  was  concerned,  she 
decided  that  the  cures  must  not  be  permitted  to  touch 
money  which  came  direct  from  the  hands  of  persons 
without  her  pale  and,  therefore,  gave  instructions  that 
the  alms  should  be  purified  by  being  made  to  pass  through 
^  GsihonsiU,  Les  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  165. 


21 8  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  exchequer  of  the  Lieutenant  of  Police.  This  pretty 
piece  of  casuistry  inspired  a  wit  to  the  following  epistle, 
supposed  to  be  addressed  by  St.  Augustine  to  Madame 
Dugazon  and  her  colleagues  : 

"  Salut  k  la  troupe  italique, 

A  ce  comit6  catholique 

Dont  le  coeur  loyal  s'attendrit 

Sur  la  calamite  publique, 

C'est  le  fils  de  sainte  Monique, 

C'est  Augustin  qui  vous  ecrit. 

Oui,  mes  amis,  par  cette  ^pitre, 

J'abjure  maint  et  maint  chapitre 

Ou  j'ai  fronde  votre  metier 

Comme  un  tant  soit  peu  diabolique, 

•  •  •  •  • 

Oui,  sans  etre  garant  de  rien, 

Je  croirais  qu'un  com^dien 

Risque,  s'il  est  homme  de  bien, 

D'etre  sauv^  tout  comme  un  autre. 

Un  mime,  en  face  d'un  apotre, 

C'est  un  scandale,  dira-t-on  ; 

Saint  Paul  k  cote  de  Rosiere, 

Trial  vis  k  vis  de  saint  Pierre, 

Et  bienheureuse  Dugazon, 

Aux  pieds  d'un  diacre  ou  d'un  vicaire, 

Le  paradis  serait  boufFon. 

Tant  pis  pour  qui  s'en  scandalise  : 

Allez  au  ciel  par  vos  vertus 

Et  laissez  clabauder  I'Eglise." 

A  Royalist  to  the  core,  Madame  Dugazon,  when  the 
Revolution  came,  viewed  with  feelings  of  indignation 
and  regret  the  downfall  of  the  King  and  Queen,  the  latter 
of  whom  had  treated  her  with  marked  kindness.^     Nor 

'  Madame  Dugazon's  feelings  were  probably  intensified  by  the  fact 
that  her  husband  had  espoused  the  popular  side  with  enthusiasm,  and  had 
been  appointed  aide-de-camp  to  the  notorious  Santerre.     After  the  9th 


MADAME  DUGAZON  219 

did  she  lack  the  courage  of  her  opinions,  as  an  unsigned 
letter  once  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Elliot,  the  lady  who 
inspired  the  "  First  Gentleman  in  Europe  "  with  so 
lively  a  passion,  will  testify  : 

"  After  the  20th  of  June,  1792,  those  who  wished  well 
to  the  Royal  Family  urged  the  Queen  to  show  herself 
occasionally  in  public  with  the  Dauphin,  an  interesting 
and  beautiful  child,  and  her  charming  daughter,  Madame 
Royale. 

"  She  went  therefore  to  the  Comedie-Italienne,  with 
her  children,  Madame  Elisabeth,  the  King's  sister,  and 
Madame  de  Tourzel,  gouvernante  of  the  '  children  of 
France.'  This  was  the  last  time  that  the  Queen  appeared 
in  public.  I  was  in  my  box,  exactly  facing  that  of  the 
Queen  ;  and,  as  she  was  much  more  interesting  than  the 
play,  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  upon  her  and  her  family. 

"  The  piece  represented  was  the  'Evenements  imfrevus, 
and  Madame  Dugazon  played  the  soubrette. 

"  Her  Majesty,  from  the  moment  she  entered  the 
theatre,  seemed  very  sad.  She  was  much  affected  by 
the  applause  of  the  public,  and  I  saw  her  several  times 
wipe  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  The  little  Dauphin,  who 
sat  the  whole  evening  upon  her  knees,  appeared  anxious 
to  know  the  cause  of  his  unhappy  mother's  tears.  She 
was  seen  to  caress  him,  and  the  audience  seemed  moved 
by  the  cruel  situation  of  this  unhappy  Queen. 

"  There  is  a  duet  in  this  opera  sung  by  the  soubrette 
and  the  valet,  and  Madame  Dugazon  had  to  say  : 

Thermidor,  the  actor  was,  for  some  time,  the  object  of  hostile  demonstrations 
whenever  he  appeared  on  the  stage.  But  he  courageously  refused  to  bow 
before  the  storm,  and,  little  by  little,  the  public  forgave  him.  In  1807  he 
retired  from  the  stage,  and,  two  years  later,  died,  "  a  raving  madman,"  on 
an  estate  which  he  had  bought  near  Orleans. 


220  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  '  J'airae  mon  maitre  tendrement, 
Ah  !  combien  j'aime  ma  maitressc  ! ' 

"  As,  in  singing  these  verses,  she  placed  her  hand  on 
her  heart  and  looked  at  the  Queen,  every  one  perfectly 
understood  the  allusion. 

"  Immediately,  a  number  of  Jacobins  who  were  among 
the  audience  sprang  upon  the  stage,  and,  if  the  actors 
had  not  concealed  Madame  Dugazon,  they  would 
certainly  have  killed  her.  They  then  drove  the  poor 
Queen  and  her  suite  from  the  theatre,  and  it  was  all  that 
the  guard  could  do  to  place  them  safe  and  sound  in  their 
carriages. 

"  In  the  meanwhile,  the  Queen's  party  had  joined 
battle  with  the  Jacobins ;  but  the  soldiers  intervened  and 
the  broil  had  no  serious  consequences." 

Shortly  after  this  incident,  Madame  Dugazon  tem- 
porarily retired  from  the  Comedie-Italienne,  on  the  plea 
of  ill-health  ;  but  really,  according  to  Madame  Lebrun, 
because  the  public,  in  a  spirit  of  revenge,  had  endeavoured 
to  make  her  sing  a  revolutionary  song  upon  the  stage. ^ 
In  1795  she  reappeared  and  was  received  with  all  the  old 
enthusiasm.  At  the  time  of  her  return,  she  was  merely 
a  pensioner  ;  but,  in  1801,  when  the  two  Opera-Comiques 
were  united  in  a  single  troupe  at  the  Theatre-Feydeau, 
she  was  admitted  a  societaire  and  given  a  seat  on  the 
administrative  council. 

No  one  was  more  rejoiced  at  the  Restoration  than 
this  most  ardent  Royalist.  "  I  feel,"  she  observed  to 
one  of  her  friends,  "  that  now  I  shall  die  more  happy." 
She  started  at  once  for  Saint-Ouen,  and  was  one  of 
the  first  to  whom  Louis  XVIII.  granted  an  audience. 
On  being  admitted  to  the  royal  presence,  her  emotion 

'  Souvenirs. 


id 


MADAME  DUGAZON  221 

overcame  her,  and  she  threw  herself  at  the  King's  feet, 
bathed  in  tears. 

The  monarch,  himself  much  moved,  raised  her  up. 
You  have  not  forgotten  me,"  said  he,  kindly,  "  and  I 
shall  always  remember  the  pleasure  you  gave  me  at 
Versailles.  I  am  very  grieved  that  the  state  of  your 
health  has  compelled  you  to  retire  from  the  stage.  I 
should  be  enchanted  to  see  you  again." 

After  her  interview  with  Louis  XVIII.,  we  hear  little 
of  Madame  Dugazon.  She  lived  a  very  retired  life  in 
the  midst  of  a  little  circle  of  intimate  friends.  All  her 
affection  was  centred  in  her  son  Gustave,  a  young  com- 
poser, who,  at  an  early  age,  showed  remarkable  promise, 
which,  however,  does  not  seem  to  have  been  quite  ful- 
filled.^ Such  was  her  anxiety  for  his  success  that  when 
he  had  an  opera  in  rehearsal,  she  is  said  to  have  invariably 
fallen  ill  and  not  to  have  recovered  until  after  the  first 
performance. 2 

She  died  on  September  21,  1821,  after  a  long  and 
painful  illness,  and  was  buried  in  Pere-Lachaise.  The 
cortege  was  followed  by  a  large  crowd,  and  Bouilly,  her 
devoted  friend  of  twenty  years,  pronounced  a  funeral 
oration. 

^  He  composed  three  operas  :  Marguerite  de  Waldemar  (1812),  la  Noce 
ecossaise  (1814),  and  le  Chevalier  d'indiistrie  (1818)  ;  and  two  ballets  ; 
les  Fiances  de  Caserte  and  Alfred  le  Grand.  But  none  of  these  pieces  seem 
to  have  been  at  all  f a vourablyf received.  He  died  in  1826,  five  years  after 
his  mother. 

^  Gaboriau,  Les  Comediennes  adore esy  p.  170, 


V 
MADEMOISELLE    CONTAT 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT 

About  the  year  1770,  a  bright-eyed  and  lively  little  girl 
might  frequently  have  been  seen  to  steal  behind  the 
scenes  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  and  then,  placing  herself 
in  some  obscure  corner,  gaze  with  mingled  awe  and 
admiration  at  the  great  players  as  they  made  their 
entrances  and  exits.  The  father  of  little  Louise  Contat 
— for  that  was  the  child's  name — seems  to  have  had  some 
employment  at  the  theatre,^  and  she  had  already  gained 
some  distinction  in  amateur  performances.  At  the  age 
of  eleven,  it  was  intended  to  send  her  out  on  tour  with 
a  wandering  theatrical  troupe,  but,  fortunately,  she 
had  already  attracted  the  notice  of  the  Previlles,  who 
adopted  her,  and  the  famous  actor  himself  undertook 
to  train  her  for  the  stage. ^  "  Never,"  says  Fleury, 
*'  did  pupil  prove  more  worthy  of  such  a  master.  The 
young  actress  did  not  master  intuitively  the  secrets  of 
an  art  which  cannot  be  taught  ;  but  the  great  comedian, 
charmed  with  her  recocious  talent,  facilitated  her 
acquirement  of  those  elements  of  diction,  the  solfeggi 
of  speech,  so  indispensable  to  a  career  on  the  stage."  ^ 

^  In  Louise  Contat's  acte  de  naissance,  which  bears  date  June  16,  1760, 
her  father,  Jean  Francois  Contat,  describes  himself  as  "  soldat  de  la  mari- 
chaussie  et  marchand  de  has  frivilegie  a  Paris." — Jal,  Dictionnaire  de  Bio- 
graphie  et  d^Uistoire,  article  "Contat." 

"  Hawkins,  "The  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  ii.  209. 

^  Memoires  de  Fleury,  ii.  217. 

P 


226  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

On  February  3,  1776,  at  the  age  of  fifteen  and  a  half, 
Louise  Contat  appeared  at  the  Comedie-Frangaise, 
as  Atalide,  in  Bajazet.  Her  face  and  figure  pleased  the 
critics,  but  her  talent  made  but  little  impression.  "  Mile. 
Contat,  has  just  made  her  debut,''^  writes  La  Harpe, 
"  with  a  pretty  face,  but  no  voice  and  little  talent." 
Nor  was  Grimm  more  favourable.  "  She  is  mediocre  in 
tragedy,"  writes  he,  "  and  her  gestures  are  affected ; 
but  she  has  an  agreeable  face  and  intelligent  eyes." 
Subsequently,  she  played  Zaire  and  Junie,  in  Britan- 
nicus,  but  with  hardly  more  success.  In  truth,  she  had 
no  talent  for  tragedy,  and  it  was  only  in  compliance  with 
the  regulations  of  the  theatre  that  she  undertook  such 
parts.  When,  however,  she  came  to  play  comedy, 
particularly  comedy  of  the  light,  vivacious  kind,  there 
was  a  different  tale  to  tell.  Then  the  careful  lessons 
she  had  received  from  Preville,  the  greatest  comedian 
of  his  time,  bore  fruit  in  several  delightfully  clever 
impersonations,  which  drew  upon  her  the  favourable 
attention  of  all  lovers  of  really  fine  acting,  and  showed 
that  nothing  but  experience  was  needed  to  make  her  a 
worthy  successor  to  Mile.  Dangeville. 

But,  for  some  years,  the  girl's  opportunities  for  dis- 
tinction were  very  limited,  since  no  sooner  did  her  rare 
talents  begin  to  be  suspected,  than  a  cabal  was  organised 
to  obstruct  her  progress.  To  begin  with,  her  jealous 
rivals  pitted  against  her  Mile.  Vade,  the  daughter  of  the 
poet  who  had  bestowed  upon  Louis  XV.  the  title  of 
'•  le  Bien-Aime,^''  a  young  lady  who  had  made  her  first 
appearance  on  the  same  evening  as  Mile.  Contat  herself. 
Mile.  Vade,  however,  had  few  pretensions  to  beauty, 
and  still  fewer  to  histrionic  fame,  and  Mile.  Contat 
showed  marked  superiority  to  her  opponent,  even  in  the 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  227 

jeunes  princesses;  a  circumstance  which  Previllc  took 
advantage  of  to  secure  for  his  pupil  admission  as  a  regular 
member  of  the  company 

Nevertheless,  the  cabal,  far  from  being  discouraged 
by  this  rebuff,  continued  their  machinations,  and  availed 
themselves  of  their  seniority  to  exclude  the  young  actress 
from  every  part  which  might  afford  her  a  chance  of 
distinction.  But,  though  the  poor  girl  frequently 
quitted  the  stage  in  floods  of  tears,  after  the  chilly  recep- 
tion which  had  been  accorded  her  impersonation  of  some 
role  utterly  unsuited  to  her  talents,  in  the  end  the 
malignity  of  her  enemies  defeated  its  own  purpose. 
"  It  stimulated  her,"  says  Fleury,  "  to  prove  how  much 
she  had  been  wronged.  She  exerted  herself  to  give 
importance  to  the  insignificant  parts  allotted  to  her, 
and  this  kind  of  feeling  is  a  never-failing  spur  to  the  young 
artiste." 

And  the  time  was  now  at  hand  when  the  administra- 
tion of  the  Comedie-Frangaise  could  no  longer  afford 
to  ignore  the  claims  of  the  younger  members  at  the 
bidding  of  a  group  of  jealous  women,  several  of  whom 
might  be  regarded  as  lights  of  other  days.  The  Comedie- 
Italienne  was  now  no  longer  Italian  in  anything  but 
name  ;  it  had  become  the  rival  of  the  national  theatre. 
This  rivalry,  which  had  begun  in  a  very  humble  spirit 
— the  "  Italians  "  gave  out  that  they  wished  merely 
to  glean  in  the  vast  field  wherein  their  brothers  of 
the  Comedie-Fran9aise  reaped  so  abundantly — gradually 
developed  into  one  of  a  very  serious  character.  The 
"  Italians  "  issued  an  address,  announcing  that  Thalia, 
who  heretofore  had  not  dared  to  present  herself  on  the 
boards  of  their  theatre,  except  under i'the  auspices  of  the 
goddess  of  harmony,,"Lhad  decided  to  assert  her  rights. 


228  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

reinforced  their  company  by  some  excellent  performers, 
amongst  whom  was  Madame  Verteuil,  a  lady  who  had 
earned  a  high  reputation  in  the  provinces,  and  produced 
some  excellent  comedies,  whose  success  excited  the 
gravest  apprehension  in  the  green-room  of  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise. 

To  present  a  bold  front  to  this  formidable  attack, 
the  administration  of  that  theatre  found  themselves 
compelled  to  bring  into  the  field  all  their  forces  and  to 
give  every  encouragement  to  new  talent.  But  the  oppo- 
sition to  Mile.  Contat  was  so  strong,  that  it  was  not 
until  July  1782  that  she  was  afforded  an  opportunity 
of  exercising  her  abilities  to  the  full  and  realising  the 
promise  which  Preville  had  seen  in  her  as  a  child. 

So  far  back  as  the  spring  of  1775,  Palissot  had  sub- 
mitted to  the  Comedie-Fran^aise  a  play  called  Les 
Courtisanes.  The  actors  rejected  it,  ostensibly  on  the 
ground  that  it  was  indelicate,  but  really,  the  author 
suspected,  because  he  was  the  enemy  of  their  friends, 
the  philosophers.  In  reply  to  the  ostensible  reason,  he 
applied  for  and  obtained  the  approbation  of  the  censor, 
Crebillon  fits,  not  perhaps  the  person  best  fitted  to 
discriminate  between  delicacy  and  indelicacy,  since  he 
was  the  author  of  some  of  the  most  licentious  romances 
of  the  time,  one  of  which,  called  Le  Sopha,  had  so  out- 
raged Madame  de  Pompadour's  sense  of  propriety  that 
she  had  caused  the  writer  to  be  exiled  from  Paris.  Never- 
theless, the  company  held  to  their  previous  decision,  at 
the  same  time  addressing  to  the  dramatist  an  impertinent 
letter.  Out  of  consideration  for  his  feelings,  they  said, 
their  first  refusal  had  been  based  on  the  indelicacy  of 
the  piece.  But  the  Courtisanes  possessed  faults  of  another 
kind.     It  might,  however,  be  performed,  if  M.  Palissot 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  229 

could  contrive  to  invest  it  with :  (i)  action  ;  (2)  interest  ; 
(3)  taste ;  (4)  a  plot.  In  spite  of  this  rebuff,  the  author 
had  the  play  printed  and,  seven  years  later,  through  the 
mediation  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  whom  he  had 
succeeded  in  persuading  that  his  work  would  promote 
the  cause  of  morality,  Louis  XVI.  gave  orders  that  it 
should  be  put  into  rehearsal,  after  suggesting  some 
alterations  in  the  dialogue. 

The  play  was  a  success,  a  result  largely  due  to  Mile. 
Contat's  admirable  impersonation  of  the  heroine,  the 
courtesan  Rosalie,  for  more  than  one  of  the  situations 
was  decidedly  "  risky,"  while  the  fact  that  Sophanes, 
the  villain  of  the  piece — and  a  particularly  odious  villain 
— was  a  philosopher  and  man  of  letters  by  no  means 
commended  itself  to  many  of  the  habitues  of  the    pit.^ 

"  Mile.  Contat,"  wrote  Grimm,  "  secured  in  the 
part  of  Rosalie  a  success  which  she  had  never  yet  obtained. 
The  situation  in  the  second  act  appeared  to  be  carried 
a  little  further  than  stage  decorum  seems  to  permit  of. 
But  the  situation  is  material  to  the  plot,  and,  thanks 
to  the  charming  figure  of  the  heroine,  it  would  have 
been  difficult  not  to  accord  indulgence  to  the  tableau. 
Moreover,  it  was  tolerated,  though  not  without  some 
murmuring." 

From  the  performance  of  this  comedy  we  may  date 
the  opening  of  Louise  Contat's  theatrical  career.  In  the 
following  December,  she  secured  another  triumph  as 
the  heroine  of  Dubuisson's  Vieux  Gargon,  and  Grimm 
wrote  :  "  Mile.  Contat,  who  makes  every  day  fresh  pro- 
gress, appeared  charming  in  the  part  of  Sophie.  At 
^  The  critic  of  the  Mercure  wrote  :  "  What  respect  can  they  (men  of 
letters)  hope  to  inspire,  when  they  themselves  become  the  first  to  denounce 
their  own  secret  vices,  and,  to  sum  up  all  in  one  word,  when  their  mind 
seems  to  make  a  jest  of  calumniating  their  heart  ?  " 


230  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Easter  1783,  on  the  retirement  of  the  accomplished  and 
virtuous  Mile.  d'Oligny,  the  object  of  the  eulogy  of 
Freron  which  excited  Mile.  Clairon  to  so  much  indig- 
nation,^ she  succeeded  to  her  emploi,'^  and  secured  daily 
fresh  successes.^ 

But  it  was  in  the  part  of  Suzanne  in  Beaumarchais's 
immortal  comedy,  Le  Mariage  de  Figaro,  that  Louise 
Contat  was  to  attain  celebrity.  This  play  had  been 
completed  in  1781  ;  but  to  write  it  was  one  thing,  to  get 
it  produced  was  quite  another.  Louis  XVL  read  the 
manuscript  himself  and,  though  his  political  insight 
was  none  of  the  keenest,  could  not  fail  to  recognise  its 
dangerous  tendencies.  He  pronounced  it  "  detestable  " 
and  "  unactable,"  and,  for  more  than  two  years,  no  argu- 
ment could  induce  him  to  permit  its  being  performed. 
It  was  in  vain  that  Beaumarchais  stimulated  public 
curiosity  to  fever  heat  by  frequent  readings  of  his  play, 
at  his  own  house  or  in  various  fashionable  salons.  It 
was  in  vain  that  his  friends  at  Court,  headed  by  the 
Comte  de  Vaudreuil,  one  of  the  most  prominent  members 
of  the  Queen's  social  circle,^  allowed  no  opportunity  to 

^  For  an  account  of  this  affair,  see  the  author's  "  Queens  of  the  French 
Stage,"  p.  324  et  seq. 

-  La  Harpe,  Correspondence  litteraire,  iv.  51. 

^  The  friendship  between  Beaumarchais  and  the  Comte  de  Vaudreuil 
had  its  origin  in  the  following  incident.  The  latter  had  had  a  dispute, 
at  one  of  the  Court  theatres,  with  a  M.  de  Miromesnil,  a  distinguished 
amateur  actor,  as  to  the  manner  in  which  drunkenness  should  be  depicted 
on  the  stage.  Some  of  the  company  jestingly  ascribed  the  count's  remarlcs 
to  personal  experience.  "  Nay,"  answered  Vaudreuil,  "  they  are  not  my 
own.  I  borrow  the  lesson  from  the  great  Garrick,  who  gave  it  on  the 
Boulevards  to  Pr6viUe,  who  acted  upon  it  before  a  few  working  men,  and 
caused  them  to  take  the  mimicry  for  reality."  Miromesnil  disputed  the 
authenticity  of  the  anecdote,  and,  on  being  assured  that  it  was  true,  offered 
to  lay  a  heavy  wager  that  a  Bouvelard  was  not  the  place.  Beaumarchais 
happened  to  be  standing  by.     "Take  the  wager,"  he  whispered  to  the 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  231 

slip  of  extolling  the  merits  of  the  work.  The  King 
remained  adamant.  Once  indeed  it  seemed  to  the  drama- 
tist that  the  battle  had  all  but  been  won.  Thanks  to 
the  efforts  of  Vaudreuil,  who  had  succeeded  in  gaining 
over  Marie  Antoinette  to  his  side,  the  players  suddenly- 
received  orders  from  Versailles  to  rehearse  the  play  in 
secret  for  a  private  performance.  Beaumarchais,  after 
reading  his  piece  to  the  assembled  company,  determined 
to  consult  Mile.  Contat  as  to  the  cast,  the  result  being 
that  Dazincourt  was  set  down  for  Figaro,  Mole  for 
Almaviva,  the  same  character  which  he  had  so  successfully 
represented  in  the  Barbier  de  Seville,  Mile.  Sainval  for 
the  Countess,  and  pretty  Mile.  Olivier  for  the  Page  ; 
while  Preville,  who,  conscious  of  failing  memory  and 
sprightliness,had  refused  the  part  of  the  Barber, contented 
himself  with  the  comparatively  unimportant  role  of 
Brid'oison.  Finally,  Mile.  Contat  was  entrusted  with  the 
all-important  part  of  Suzanne,  a  choice  which  caused 
considerable  astonishment,  as,  admirable  though  the 
young  actress  was  as  an  amoureuse,  she  had  never  yet 
attempted  anything  of  this  kind.  Mile.  Fanier,  the 
senior  soubrette,  protested  warmly  against  the  nomination 
and  claimed  Suzanne  for  herself.  But  Beaumarchais, 
who  had  early  recognised  the  high  qualities  of  Mile. 
Contat  and  had  every  confidence  in  her  versatility,  had 
from  the  first  intended  the  part  of  the  heroine  for  her, 
and  would  listen  to  no  remonstrance.  Nor  had  he  any 
reason  to  regret  his  decision. 

Everything  being  in  readiness,  it  was  decided  that 
count ;  "  it  is  yours."  Vaudreuil  did  so.  Beaumarchais  left  the  theatre, 
and  shortly  afterwards  returned  with  a  letter,  in  which  Garrick  himself  stated 
that  the  incident  occurred  on  the  Bouvelards.  From  that  moment,  the 
count  evinced  a  warm  interest  in  the  dramatist's  fortunes. — Hawkins, 
"  The  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  ii.  291. 


232  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  performance  should  be  given  at  the  Theatre  des 
Menus-Plaisirs,  where  the  Comte  de  Vaudreuil's  in- 
fluence was  paramount,  on  June  13,  1783.  The  interest 
it  excited  was  intense.  As  the  appointed  hour  drew 
near,  the  approaches  to  the  theatre  were  blocked  by 
hundreds  of  coaches ;  all  the  fashionable  world  seemed 
determined  to  be  present.  The  consternation,  there- 
fore, may  be  imagined  when  a  rumour  began  to  spread 
that  there  would  be  no  play  that  evening  ;  that  the 
King  had  forbidden  the  performance.  At  first,  the 
gaily-dressed  crowd  was  inclined  to  be  incredulous.  But 
a  notice  posted  on  the  doors  of  the  theatre  confirmed 
the  rumour,  and  sent  them  away,  complaining  bitterly 
of  the  "  oppression  "  and  "  tyranny  "  of  the  King,  who 
at  the  eleventh  hour  had  sent  orders,  through  his  Minister 
of  the  Household,  the  Baron  de  Breteuil,  prohibiting 
the  representation  of  Le  Manage  de  Figaro  under  pain 
of  disobedience,  and,  the  next  day,  caused  the  players 
to  be  summoned  before  the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  when 
the  prohibition  was  repeated  in  a  form  employed  by 
the  royal  authority  only  on  the  gravest  occasions. 

But  Beaumarchais  was  not  the  man  to  despair.  He 
withdrew  to  London,  ostensibly  on  commercial  business, 
but  really,  no  doubt,  to  be  out  of  the  way  the  while 
Vaudreuil  solicited  and  obtained  the  King's  consent 
to  the  Manage  de  Figaro  being  performed  in  the  course 
of  a  f6te  which  the  count  intended  to  give  at  his  country- 
house  at  Gennevilliers.  "  The  Comte  d'Artois,"  wrote 
the  Due  de  Fronsac  to  Beaumarchais  from  that  place, 
"  is  coming  to  hunt  here  about  the  i8th  (September), 
and  the  Due  de  Polignac  with  his  party  to  sup.  Vau- 
dreuil has  consulted  me  as  to  giving  them  a  play,  as  we 
have  a  capital  room.     I  told  him  that  he  could  not  find 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  233 

a  more  charming  one  than  the  Mariage  de  Figaro.  The 
King  has  given  his  consent,  have  we  yours  ?  " 

Beaumarchais,  on  his  return  to  Paris,  duly  gave  his 
"  consent,"  but  only  on  condition  that  the  play  should 
be  re-examined.  The  royal  veto,  said  he,  had  exposed 
his  work  to  the  charge  of  immorality,  and  until  that 
stigma  had  been  removed  from  it  by  a  formal  approbation, 
on  no  consideration  would  he  allow  it  to  be  played.  It 
was  a  masterly  move,  for  while  no  censor  would  be  likely 
to  forbid  an  entertainment  sanctioned  by  the  King, 
the  desired  approbation,  besides  stimulating  the  curiosity 
of  the  public,  would  have  the  effect  of  covering  his 
Majesty's  opposition  to  the  piece  with  ridicule.  One 
would  have  supposed  that  the  authorities  would  have 
been  sufficiently  alert  to  detect  the  trap  laid  for  them, 
but  they  walked  into  it  without  hesitation,  and  sent  the 
manuscript  to  the  historian  Gaillard,^  who  reported  to 
the  Lieutenant  of  Police  as  follows  : 

"  Allow  me.  Monsieur,  to  inform  you  of  my  opinion 
with  regard  to  the  comedy  entitled  La  Folle  Journeey 
ou  le  Mariage  de  Figaro.  I  have  heard  it  read  and  read 
it  myself  with  all  the  attention  of  which  I  am  capable, 
and  I  confess  that  I  see  no  danger  in  allowing  it  to  be 
performed,  when  corrected  in  two  places,  and  when  some 
mots  have  been  suppressed,  of  which  a  malicious  abuse  or 
a  dangerous  and  wicked  application  might  be  made. 
The  piece  is  a  very  gay  one  ;  but  when  the  gaieties, 
although  approaching  what  are  called  '  gaudrioles^ 
are    not    indecent,    they    amuse   without    doing    harm. 

^  Gabriel  Henri  Gaillard  (1726-1806).  His  chief  works  were:  VHis- 
toire  de  Fran(;ois  I"',  dit  le  Grand  Rot  et  le  Ptre  des  Lettres  (1766-1769)  ; 
VHistoire  de  la  Rivalite  de  la  France  et  de  VAngleterre  (1771-1777),  which 
procured  him  admission  to  the  Academy ;  and  UHistoire  de  la  Rivalite  de 
la  France-  et  de  V Espagnr  (iSoo). 


234  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Gay  people  are  not  dangerous,  and  State  troubles,  con- 
spiracies, assassinations,  and  all  the  horrors  we  read  of  in 
history  of  all  ages  show  us  that  they  have  been  conceived, 
ripened,  and  executed  by  reserved,  sad,  and  sullen  people. 
The  piece  is  besides  called  La  Folle  Journee,  and  Figaro, 
the  hero  of  that  piece,  is  known  in  the  comedy  of  the 
Barbier  de  Seville,  of  which  this  is  a  continuation,  as  one 
of  those  intriguers  of  the  lower  class,  whose  examples  are 
not  dangerous  for  any  man  of  the  world.  Besides,  I 
think  that  by  raising  objections  to  things  of  little  im- 
portance, as  if  they  were  dangerous,  a  value  is  imparted 
to  them  which  they  themselves  do  not  possess,  and 
foolish  or  ill-natured  people  are  inspired  with  a  fear  or 
suspicion  of  danger,  which  has  no  reality." 

Then,  after  having  proposed  two  suppressions,  one 
of  the  word  "  minister,"  the  other  of  a  passage  alluding 
to  the  judgment  of  Solomon,  Gaillard  concludes  thus  : 

"  This  piece  appears  to  be  well  written.  The 
personages  speak  as  they  ought,  according  to  their 
station,  and  I  think  it  very  likely  to  attract  more  spectators 
to  the  Comedie  and,  consequently,  what  it  most  requires 
— large  receipts."  ^ 

Gaillard's  suggestions,  which  left  untouched  practi- 
cally the  whole  of  the  sarcasms  levelled  at  the  Govern- 
ment, were  readily  agreed  to  by  Beaumarchais,  who  lost 
no  opportunity  of  exaggerating  their  importance  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world,  and  succeeded  in  extracting  from  the 
Lieutenant  of  Police  a  promise  that  henceforward  the 
comedy  should  be  "  deemed  the  property  of  his  Majesty's 
players,"  i.e.,  put  in  the  way  of  being  represented  at  the 
theatre. 

'  Lomdnie,  Beaumarchais  et  son  temps,  iv 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  235 

The  Manage  de  Figaro  was  then  played  in  the  large 
room  at  Gennevilliers,  apparently,  as  a  favour  somewhat 
reluctantly  conceded  by  the  author,  and  was  received 
with  enthusiastic  applause  by  the  distinguished  com- 
pany, though,  if  Madame  Vigee  Lebrun  is  to  be  believed, 
every  one  was  surprised  that  the  Comte  de  Vaudreuil 
should  have  permitted  a  play  which  contained  so  many 
sarcastic  allusions  to  the  Court  to  be  performed  before 
an  audience  which  consisted  almost  entirely  of  courtiers, 
with  "  our  excellent  prince,"  the  Comte  d'Artois,  at 
their  head.  According  to  the  same  authority,  the 
favourable  reception  accorded  his  comedy  quite  turned 
Beaumarchais's  head.  "  He  rushed  about  like  a  mad- 
man, and,  on  some  one  complaining  of  the  heat,  he  would 
not  allow  time  for  the  windows  to  be  opened,  but  broke 
all  the  panes  with  his  cane."  ^  '"''  II  a  doublement  casse 
les  vitres^''  it  was  remarked. 

The  very  day  after  the  performance  at  Gennevilliers, 
Beaumarchais,  sensible  of  the  advantage  he  had  gained, 
formally  applied  to  the  Lieutenant  of  Police  for  permis- 
sion to  have  his  play  brought  out.  But  th-^^-  official 
replied  that  the  King's  prohibition,  give  tne  aay  of 
the  performance  at  the  Menus-Plaisirs,  v  -  still  in  force, 
and  that  he  must  refer  the  matter  to  his  A^Iajesty.  The 
latter,  though  alarmed  by  the  ferment  he  had  raised, 
for  all  Paris  and  Versailles  were  now  loudly  clamouring 
for  the  production  of  the  Mariage,  could  not  make  up 
his  mind  to  allow  the  production  of  a  piece  which  he 
considered  both  dangerous  and  immoral,  and  resolved 
to  postpone  the  evil  day  so  long  as  he  possibly  could. 
In  this  decision,  it  appeared,  he  was  influenced  largely  by 
the  Baron  de  Breteuil,  who  was  exceedingly  prejudiced 

^  Souvenirs,  i.  loo. 


236  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

against  the  play,  and  to  conciliate  that  nobleman  all 
Beaumarchais's  efforts  were  henceforth  directed.  The 
baron  was  devoted  to  the  Queen  and  the  Comte  d'Artois, 
and  was  himself  hy  no  means  insensible  to  courtly- 
seduction  ;  and  the  dramatist,  aware  of  this,  succeeded 
not  only  in  obtaining  the  influence  of  the  Comte 
d'Artois,  but  even  on  prevailing  on  Marie  Antoinette 
to  say  a  word  on  his  behalf.  Both  the  Queen  and  the 
prince  assured  the  Minister  that,  in  addition  to  the 
corrections  required  in  the  Manage  de  Figaro  by  Gaillard, 
the  author  was  prepared  to  make  still  further  alterations, 
if  such  were  considered  necessary.  Breteuil  thereupon 
assumed  a  more  friendly  attitude,  but  declared  that 
before  he  could  interest  himself  in  the  fate  of  the  piece, 
he  must  hear  it  carefully  read,  in  the  presence  of  some 
literary  men  of  his  own  selection. 

"  On  the  day  appointed,"  says  Fleury,  "  Beau- 
marchais  proceeded  with  his  manuscript  to  the  baron's 
residence,  where  he  found  assembled,  besides  the  master 
of  the  house,  MM.  Gaillard,  Champfort,  Rulhiere, 
Madame  de  Matignon,  the  Minister's  daughter,  and 
several  other  ladies,  her  friends.  Beaumarchais  began 
by  declaring  that  he  would  submit  without  reserve  to 
all  corrections  and  omissions  which  the  ladies  and  gentle- 
men present  might  deem  requisite.  He  began  reading, 
he  was  stopped  ;  some  remarks  were  made,  and  a  little 
discussion  arose.  At  every  interruption,  Beaumarchais 
yielded  the  point  in  dispute.  But  when  the  reading  was 
ended,  he  went  over  the  whole  ground  again,  defending 
the  smallest  details  with  so  much  address,  such  forcible 
reasoning,  and  such  captivating  pleasantry,  that  he 
completely  silenced  his  censors.  They  laughed  and 
applauded,   and,   at  length,   all   declared   that   the   play 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  237 

was  '  a  most  original  and  unique  production.'  Instead 
of  omissions,  additions  were  proposed.  Every  one  of 
the  party  was  eager  to  interpolate  a  word  or  two.  M. 
de  Breteuil  suggested  a  bon  mot,  which  Beaumarchais 
thankfully  accepted.  '  This  will  save  the  fourth  act,' 
said  he.  Madame  de  Matignon  chose  the  colour  for  the 
Page's  ribbon.  The  colour  was  approved ;  it  would 
become  quite  the  rage.  '  Who  would  not  be  proud  to 
wear  Madame  de  Matignon's  colours  ?  '  said  Beau- 
marchais. '  But  M.  de  Bretcuil's  bon  mot  would  not  be 
heard,  the  elegant  ribbon  would  not  be  seen,  if  the  second 
Figaro  were  not  permitted  to  appear  on  the  stage.' 
That  he  must  appear  was  eventually  the  unanimous 
opinion."  ^ 

The  astute  dramatist  completely  succeeded  in  throw- 
ing dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  Baron  de  Breteuil,  and,  though 
Louis  XVI.  contrived  to  defer  his  inevitable  surrender 
for  some  months  longer,  by  declaring  that  the  play  must 
be  re-examined  and  causing  six  censors  to  be  appointed 
for  that  purpose,  on  April  27,  1784,  the  bills  of  the 
Comedie-Frangaise,  posted  up  in  every  quarter  of  Paris, 
triumphantly   announced   the   production   that   evening 

of 

"  Le  Mariage  de  Figaro 

ou 
La  Folle  Journee." 

The  description  of  the  first  performance  of  Beau- 
marchais's  masterpiece  is  to  be  found  in  every  history 
of  the  period.  It  is  one  of  the  best-known  souvenirs 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  Let  us,  however,  borrow 
the  account  given  in  the  Memoires  of  Mile.  Contat's 
colleague  and  friend,  the  actor  Fleury  : 

'  Memoires  de  Fleury,  ii.  413. 


238  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  Many  hours  before  the  opening  of  the  ticket-office 
I  verily  beUeve  that  half  the  population  of  Paris  was  at 
the  doors.  Here  was  a  triumph  for  Beaumarchais  ! 
If  he  sighed  for  popularity,  he  had  gained  it.  Persons  of 
the  highest  rank,  even  Princes  of  the  Blood,  besieged 
him  with  letters  imploring  to  be  favoured  with  the 
author's  tickets.  At  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourbon  sent  her  valet  to  the  office  to  wait 
until  the  distribution  of  the  tickets,  which  was  to  take 
place  at  four  o'clock.  At  two  o'clock,  the  Duchesse 
d'Ossun  laid  aside  her  accustomed  dignity  and  hauteur 
and  herself  solicited  the  crowd  to  allow  her  to  pass  ; 
Madame  de  Talleyrand,  doing  violence  to  her  parsi- 
monious disposition,  paid  triple  price  for  a  box.  Cordons 
bleus  were  seen  elbowing  their  way  through  the  crowd, 
jostled  by  Savoyards  ;  the  guards  were  dispersed,  the 
doors  forced  open,  the  iron  bars  broken  down,  and  an 
inconceivable  scene  of  confusion  and  danger  ensued. 
One  half  of  the  people  had  been  unable  to  procure  tickets, 
and  threw  their  admission  money  to  the  doorkeepers 
as  they  passed,  or  rather,  as  they  were  carried  along. 
But,  whilst  all  this  was  happening  outside,  the  disorder 
which  prevailed  within  the  theatre  was,  if  possible,  still 
greater.  No  less  than  three  hundred  persons  who  had 
procured  tickets  at  an  early  period  dined  in  the  boxes. 
Our  theatre  seemed  transformed  into  a  tavern  ;  nothing 
was  heard  but  the  clattering  of  plates  and  the  drawing 
of  corks.  Then,  when  the  audience  were  assembled, 
what  a  brilliant  picture  presented  itself !  The  elite 
of  the  rank  and  talent  of  Paris  was  congregated  there. 
What  a  radiant  line  of  beauty  was  exhibited  by  the  first 
tier  of  boxes."  ^ 

'  Meinoires  de  Fleury^  ii.  415  et  seq. 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  239 

The  success  of  the  piece  was  immense,  incredible, 
surpassing  even  the  fondest  hopes  of  the  author  and  actors. 
From  the  opening  scene  the  comedy  carried  the  audience 
along  with  it,  and  each  of  the  pointed  allusions  to  State 
abuses  was  greeted  with  vociferous  and  prolonged 
applause,  which  was  by  no  means  confined  to  the  parterre. 
All  the  principal  performers  distinguished  themselves. 
Dazincourt  played  Figaro  with  all  his  characteristic 
humour  and  sprightliness,  at  the  same  time  relieving 
the  character  from  any  appearance  of  vulgarity  ;  Mole 
was  an  elegant  and  dignified  Almaviva  ;  Mile.  Sainval, 
whose  efforts  had  hitherto  been  mainly  confined  to 
tragedy,  displayed  in  the  part  of  the  Countess  an 
aptitude  for  high  comedy  which  surprised  as  much  as  it 
delighted  the  audience  ;  Mile.  Olivier  threw  the  most 
enchanting  archness  and  espieglerie  into  the  role  of  the 
Page  ;  while  old  Preville  rendered  Brid'oison  a  masterly 
character. 

But  the  gem  of  the  whole  performance  was  un- 
doubtedly Mile.  Contat's  impersonation  of  Suzanne, 
wherein  she  more  than  justified  Beaumarchais's  confidence 
in  her  versatility,  and  astonished  even  her  most  devout 
admirers  by  the  gaiety  and  entrain  with  which  she 
sustained  the  part.  As  soon  as  the  curtain  fell,  Preville 
ran  up  to  her,  and,  embracing  her,  warmly  exclaimed  : 
*'  This  is  my  first  infidelity  to  Mile.  Dangeville  !  " 

The  verdict  of  the  public  was  confirmed  by  the 
critics.  "  Mile.  Contat,  in  the  role  of  Suzanne,"  says 
the  Mercure,  "  has  established  fresh  claims  to  the  applause 
of  connoisseurs,  by  a  performance  frank,  intelligent,  and 
humorous."  "  The  demoiselle  Contat,"  says  the  Journal 
de  Paris,  "  rendered  Suzanne  with  the  most  piquant 
grace."     And — highest  tribute  of  all — that  most  captious 


240  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

of  critics,  La  Harpe,  declared  that  she  "  rendered  the 
part  of  Suzanne  to  perfection." 

From  that  evening  Louise  Contat  stood  forth  as  one 
of  the  brightest  stars  of  the  Comedie-Fran^aise  and  as 
a  truly  great  actress. 

At  the  time  when  she  created  the  part  of  Suzanne 
in  the  Mariage  de  Figaro,  Louise  Contat  was  twenty-four 
years  of  age  and  in  the  '.enith  of  her  beauty.  Without 
being  tall,  her  figure  was  admirably  proportioned,  and 
"  her  whole  person  breathed  an  air  of  supreme  distinc- 
tion." Her  face,  a  charming  oval,  was  illumined  by  a 
pair  of  beautiful  eyes,  "  by  turns  languishing  or  flashing 
with  mischief."  An  exquisite  mouth,  perfect  teeth, 
and  a  ravishing  smile  completed  the  picture,  and  enslaved 
all  with  whom  she  came  in  contact. 

Yet  her  beauty  was  not  perfect.  "  She  is  an  admirable 
Venus,"  says  a  pamphlet  of  the  time,  "  cut  by  some  great 
sculptor  from  a  block  of  the  purest  marble.  Only  he 
had  not  time  to  finish  his  work,  and  entrusted  the  hands 
and  feet  to  one  of  his  workmen."  ^  Fortunately,  she 
knew  how  to  conceal  these  imperfections,  and  on  the  stage 
they  passed  unnoticed. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  so  fascinating 
and  talented  a  young  woman  did  not  lack  for  both  noble 
and  wealthy  adorers.  But  Mile.  Contat,  in  the  early 
stages  of  her  career,  was  of  a  romantic  disposition,  and 
her  first  lover  possessed  neither  qualification.  This 
much-envied  individual  was  a  certain  Chevalier  dc  Lubsac, 
an  officer  of  the  Roval  Household,  whose  handsome  face 
and  ready  wit  more  than  atoned,  in  the  lady's  eyes,  for 
his  empty  purse  and  the  brevity  of  his  pedigree. 
^  Cited  by  Gaboriau,  Lcs  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  1 80. 


LOUISE  CONTAT 
After  the  [winting  by  DuTliK  iKt: 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  241 

Soon,  however,  the  actress  had  cause  to  regret  her 
choice.  M.  de  Lubsac  not  only,  on  occasion,  drank  a 
great  deal  more  wine  than  was  good  for  him,  but  he  was 
a  confirmed  and  most  reckless  gambler,  who  would  cheer- 
fully stake  everything  he  possessed  on  the  turn  of  a  card. 
One  evening,  when  on  the  point  of  starting  for  a  f^te, 
Mile.  Contat  went  to  her  jewel-case.  To  her  consterna- 
tion, it  was  empty  ;  rings,  brooches,  pendants,  earrings, 
necklaces — all  had  disappeared  !  Supposing  that  thieves 
had  been  at  work,  the  distracted  lady  gave  orders  that 
the  police  should  be  summoned,  when  Lubsac,  who  was 
present,  intervened  and,  falling  on  his  knees,  confessed 
that  he  was  the  culprit  and  entreated  her  pardon.  Yield- 
ing to  a  sudden  temptation,  he  had  carried  off  and  pledged 
the  whole  of  the  missing  property,  in  order  to  obtain  the 
sinews  of  war.  But  alas  !  his  luck  had  been  execrable  ; 
he  had  lost  every  sou. 

The  indignation  of  the  actress  and  the  despair  of 
the  unhappy  lover  may  be  imagined. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  he,  wringing  his  hands,  "  had  I  but  a 
few  louis,  I  could  speedily  repair  the  injury  I  have  done 
you." 

"  How  so  ?  "  inquired  Mile.  Contat,  who  perceived 
a  ray  of  hope. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  the  contrite  Lubsac,  "  I  feel  that  I 
am  in  the  vein  this  evening.  But  I  have  nothing  to 
stake,  nothing  whatever." 

The  repentance  of  the  criminal  touched  the  actress's 
heart.  Smiling  through  her  tears,  she  produced  two 
louis — the  last  she  had  in  the  world — and  handed  them 
to  the  chevalier,  who  hurried  off  to  the  gaming-table. 
In  less  than  an  hour  he  returned,  transported  with  joy. 
Fortune  had  smiled  upon  him  ;    he  brought  with  him 

Q 


242  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

all  the  jewellery  he  had  pledged,  and  had  still  a  few  louis 
in  his  pocket. 

The  affaire  with  M.  de  Lubsac  lasted  but  a  few 
months,  at  the  end  of  which  Mile.  Contat  had  had 
enough  of  him  and  his  vagaries  and  gave  him  his  conge. 
A  wealthy  financier  aspired  to  the  vacant  place  in  the 
lady's  affections,  became  an  assiduous  frequenter  of  the 
Comedie,  and  professed  his  readiness  to  lay  his  heart  and 
his  money-bags  at  her  feet.  But  the  actress  would  have 
nothing  to  say  to  him,  and  intimated  in  unmistakable 
terms  that  neither  his  heart  nor  his  money-bags  had  any 
attraction  for  her.  Nevertheless,  Plutus  continued  to 
prosecute  his  suit,  and  one  evening,  while  Mile.  Contat, 
was  standing  in  the  wings,  talking  with  the  Due  de 
Laval,  he  approached  and,  "  after  having  reminded  her 
that  he  had  already  adored  her  for  a  long  while,  inquired 
if  his  turn  to  be  loved  had  not  arrived."  The  actress 
indignant  at  such  presumption,  angrily  retorted  that 
''  if  he  were  ten  times  richer  than  he  was,  she  would  not 
recognise  his  right  to  behave  with  such  impertinence  "  ; 
and,  with  that,  turned  her  back  upon  him. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  Mile.  Contat 
was  indifferent  to  riches,  when  the  person  who  possessed 
them  had  other  claims  to  her  regard  ;  and,  some  months 
after  the  above  episode,  we  find  her  squandering  right 
merrily  the  patrimony  of  the  Marquis  de  Maupeou. 

The  Marquis  de  Maupeou  was  very  rich  and  very  much 
in  love  ;  never  could  actress  have  desired  a  more  generous 
admirer.  He  furnished  a  house  for  her,  loaded  her  with 
presents,  and  decked  her  with  magnificent  diamonds. 
Moreover,  he  was  as  submissive  as  a  slave,  and  obeyed 
without  a  murmur  her  slightest  caprice.  But  Mile. 
Contat   must  have   been  even   more  difficult   to  please 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  243 

than  the  generality  of  her  sex,  since  even  this  paragon 
of  lovers  did  not  long  satisfy  her.  Perhaps  his  very 
devotion  and  readiness  to  submit  to  her  will  constituted 
a  fault  in  her  eyes.  Any  way,  she  dismissed  him,  and, 
though  the  lovelorn  marquis  "  became  so  distracted 
through  grief,  that  he  proposed  to  Mile.  Contat  to  marry 
her  and  take  her  away  from  France,"  she  declined  the 
offer. 

For  the  lady  had  higher  views.  She  had  just  made  a 
conquest  of  the  second  gentleman  in  the  land  after  the 
King,  Madame  Lebrun's  "  excellent  prince,"  the  Comte 
d'Artois,  to  wit.  What  woman  could  resist  a  Prince  of 
the  Blood  ?  Certainly  not  an  actress  of  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise.  To  have  done  so  would  have  been  to  render 
herself  guilty  of  lese-majeste. 

Mile.  Contat  was  a  proud  woman  indeed.  Neverthe- 
less, there  were  days  when  she  regretted  the  time  when 
the  bottomless  purse  of  the  Marquis  de  Maupeou  had 
been  at  her  disposal.  For  the  liberality  of  her  royal 
lover  was  very  far  from  being  in  accordance  with  what 
one  might  have  expected  from  so  great  a  personage.  If 
his  revenues  were  large,  he  told  her,  his  expenses  were 
enormous — it  is  probable  that  Mile.  Contat  only  possessed 
a  fraction  of  the  august  heart — and  often  he  was  hard  put 
for  even  a  handful  of  louis. 

The  actress  received  these  excuses  in  good  part ;  but, 
being  privately  of  opinion  that  it  was  the  will  and  not 
the  means  which  the  prince  lacked,  had  recourse  to  a  little 
ruse,  in  order  to  stimulate  his  generosity. 

On  a  piece  of  stamped  paper  she  forged  a  judgment- 
summons,  requiring  her  to  pay  a  sum  of  10,000  livres,  and 
left  it,  as  if  by  accident,  on  her  chimney-piece.  Soon 
afterwards,  his  Royal  Highness,  happening  to  call  upon 


244  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

his  inamorata,  caught  sight  of  the  paper  and  wished  to 
read  it.  Mile.  Contat  begged  him  not  to  do  so,  and 
pretended  to  snatch  it  from  him  ;  but,  at  length,  with 
much  apparent  reluctance,  permitted  him  to  satisfy 
his  curiosity. 

The  prince  read  the  document,  said  that  the  actress 
was  very  wrong  not  to  have  taken  him  into  her  confidence 
in  regard  to  her  embarrassments,  and,  having  promised 
to  take  the  debt  upon  himself,  carried  the  summons 
away  with  him.  Next  day,  he  sent  her  a  letter,  which 
she  eagerly  opened,  only  to  find,  instead  of  the  expected 
10,000  livres,  another  legal  document,  which  pro- 
vided that  the  warrant  which  she  had  been  at  such 
pains  to  fabricate  should  not  be  put  in  force  for  twelve 
months. 

Great  was  the  lady's  disgust  at  the  failure  of  her  little 
scheme.  For  a  moment,  she  was  almost  resolved  to 
forsake  the  parsimonious  prince  for  a  less  distinguished 
but  more  open-handed  adorer.  However,  her  indigna- 
tion did  not  last  very  long,  as  the  following  morning 
the  Comte  d'Artois,  who  had  only  intended  to  indulge 
in  a  little  joke  at  his  mistress's  expense,  sent  her,  by  way 
of  compensation  for  her  disappointment,  a  magnificent 
present. 

It  was  easy  for  a  Prince  of  the  Blood  to  be  generous, 
in  those  days,  without  untieing  his  purse-strings.  Thus 
the  count  obtained  for  his  charming  mistress  an  authorisa- 
tion to  play  the  prohibited  game  of  biribi  at  her  house, 
a  privilege  which  the  actress  ceded  to  the  keeper  of  a 
tennis-court  for  the  sum  of  one  hundred  louis  a  month. 
This  agreeable  addition  to  her  income,  however,  was 
not  of  long  duration,  since,  at  the  end  of  a  few  months, 
the  Parliament  of  Paris  made  one  of  its  periodical  on- 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  245 

slaughts  upon  gambling-houses,  and  that  of  Mile.  Contat 
was  closed  by  orders  of  the  Lieutenant  of  Police. 

Misfortunes  seldom  come  singly.  Soon  after  the 
closing  of  the  gambling-house,  Mile.  Contat  presented 
the  Comte  d'Artois  with  a  pledge  of  her  gratitude  and 
affection  in  the  shape  of  a  little  daughter.  But,  by  this 
time,  the  relations  between  the  actress  and  the  prince 
had  become  somewhat  strained.  Perhaps,  the  latter  had 
grown  tired  of  the  lady's  extravagance  and  caprices  ; 
perhaps  he  had  his  doubts  as  to  whether  he  was  the  sole 
tenant  of  her  heart,  or  possibly  he  was  troubled  by 
retrospective  scruples.  However  that  may  be,  he  forgot 
his  promises  and  declined  to  recognise  the  child,  about 
whom  we  shall  have  something  to  say  hereafter. 

After  this,  it  is  hardly  surprising  to  learn  that  Mile. 
Contat's  connection  with  her  august  admirer  came  to  a 
close,  M.  Descntelles,  the  Intendant  des  Menus-Plaisirs, 
becoming  the  official  successor  of  the  prince.  We  say 
official  successor,  as  it  was  rumoured  in  the  foyer  of  the 
Comedie-Frangaise  that  the  actor  Fleury  was  by  no  means 
indifferent  to  the  charms  of  his  fair  colleague,  and  that 
he  did  not  sigh  in  vain. 

Mile.  Contat's  rupture  with  the  Comte  d'Artois 
plunged  the  actress  into  a  sea  of  financial  troubles. 
During  their  connection,  she  had,  of  course,  maintained  an 
establishment  befitting  the  mistress  of  the  King's  brother, 
and  had  contracted  debts  on  a  proportionate  scale.  So 
long  as  there  seemed  a  reasonable  prospect  of  the  prince 
taking  these  liabilities  on  himself,  her  creditors  had  been 
complacent  enough.  But,  the  moment  they  learned  that 
the  liaison  was  at  an  end,  they  became  clamorous  for 
payment  and  threatened  executions  and  other  unpleasant 
methods  of  recovering  their  due.     M.  Desentelles  and 


246  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Fleury  did  their  best  to  pacify  them,  but  that  was  little 
enough  ;  and,  in  her  despair,  Mile.  Contat  was  com- 
pelled to  humiliate  herself  so  far  as  to  apply  for  assist- 
ance to  her  former  adorers  :  to  the  Marquis  de  Maupeou, 
whom  she  had  discarded,  to  the  Comte  d'Artois,  who  had 
discarded  her.  The  marquis  and  the  prince  responded 
nobly  to  the  appeal,  the  latter  sending  her  no  less  than 
three  thousand  louis  ;  and  the  most  troublesome  claims 
were  satisfied. 

The  favour  of  M.  Desentelles  lasted  but  a  short 
while,  and,  after  his  dismissal.  Mile.  Contat  seems  to 
have  had  enough  of  gallantry,  or,  at  least,  of  official 
lovers.  Fleury,  however,  remained  always  her  faithful 
and  devoted  friend,  and  speaks  of  her  in  his  Memoires 
as  a  "  good  and  excellent  sister."  He  had  done  much 
to  encourage  her  in  the  days  when  jealous  intrigues  had 
relegated  her  to  the  background,  and,  in  return,  he  was 
indebted  to  her  for  the  part  which  made  his  reputation 
as  an  actor.  With  the  piece  which  provided  him  with 
this  opportunity  Mile.  Contat  had  become  acquainted 
in  rather  a  romantic  way. 

One  afternoon,  in  the  winter  of  1 788-1 789,  the  actress 
was  driving  in  a  whisky,  a  kind  of  vehicle  then  much 
affected  by  ladies  of  fashion.  Unfortunately  for  the 
safety  of  pedestrians,  she  held  the  reins  with  considerably 
more  grace  than  skill,  and  about  the  middle  of  the  Pont- 
Neuf  narrowly  escaped  knocking  down  a  middle-aged 
gentleman,  who  was  crossing  the  road.  "  Monsieur," 
she  exclaimed,  pulling  up  sharply,  "  pray  what  do  you 
mean  by  running  against  my  horse  in  that  fashion  ?  " 
"  Madame,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  really  think  that  the  horse 
ran  against  me."  "Impossible,  Moniseur.  My  horse 
is   quite   under   control.     Besides,  I  called  out   '  gare  I ' 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  247 

You  never  looked  up."  "  Madame,"  said  the  gentleman, 
with  a  profound  conge,  "  you  have  more  reason  to  cry 
*  gare  '  now  that  I  do  look  up." 

Convinced,  from  his  courtly  manners  and  distinguished 
air,  that  the  stranger  must  be  a  personage  of  high  rank. 
Mile.  Contat  made  several  attempts  to  ascertain  his 
identity,  but  without  success,  and  had  well-nigh  forgotten 
the  adventure,  when  one  night,  at  the  theatre,  about  a 
month  later,  a  note  was  brought  to  her.  It  was  to  the 
effect  that  the  gentleman  who  had  had  the  privilege  of 
a  few  moments'  conversation  with  her  on  the  Pont- 
Neuf  wished  to  know  whether,  as  a  great  favour,  the 
"  modern  Thalia  "  would  devote  a  leisure  hour  to  a 
rehearsal,  at  the  Comedie-Italienne,  of  a  two-act  piece 
in  which  he  was  greatly  interested.  "  Henri  "  was  the 
signature. 

Mile.  Contat  at  once  repaired  to  the  theatre  men- 
tioned ;  but  found  that  the  author  of  the  only  play  in 
preparation   there   was   a   comparatively  young   man,    a 
certain  Baron  Ernest  von  Manteufel,  a  relative  of  the 
last  Grand  Duke  of  Courland.     "  Ma  foi  I  "  exclaimed 
she,  to  the  composer  Dezede,  who  presented  him  to  her, 
"  I  must  explain  my  error  in  coming  hither."     And  the 
letter  was  produced.     The  baron,  on  reading  it,  seemed 
much  moved.     "  Henri,"  he  cried,  "  ever  noble,  generous, 
and   true  !  "     "  And   to    me    unknown,"    remarked    the 
actress,  smiling.     "  Unknown,  Mademoiselle  ?     Why  all 
the  world  knows  him  !  "     "  Nay,  Monsieur,  there  is  at 
least  one  person  in  the  world  who  is  not  in  the  secret, 
and  that  person  is  myself."     "  Can  you  possibly  be  un- 
aware. Mademoiselle,  that  he  is  Prince  Henry  of  Prussia 
[brother  of  Frederick  the  Great]."     "  I  breathe  again," 
said  Mademoiselle  Contat.     "  Brother  of  a    king  and  a 


248  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

hero  into  the  bargain  !  I  pardon  him  for  the  sake  of 
his  coup  de  theatre.''^  "  And  for  the  sake  of  his  recom- 
mendation," the  author  continued,  "  I  hope  you  will 
befriend  me." 

He  then  explained  that  he  was  in  a  serious  difficulty. 
The  success  of  his  first  act  depended  upon  the  impersona- 
tion of  a  tavern-hostess.  This  part  he  had,  of  course, 
intended  for  Madame  Dugazon ;  but  that  lady  had 
declined  it,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  unworthy  of  her 
talents ;  and  the  actress  who  was  now  studying  it  was 
plainly  unequal  to  the  task.  Would  Mile.  Contat  use 
her  good  offices  to  induce  Madame  Dugazon  to  reconsider 
her  decision. 

Mile.  Contat  declared  such  a  negotiation  impossible  ; 
to  take  a  part  from  an  actress  in  possession  of  it,  and  force 
it  upon  one  who  had  rejected  it  would  be  a  breach  of  the 
etiquette  of  her  profession.  But  she  sat  out  the  rehearsal, 
and  saw  at  once  that  the  piece,  which  was  a  comedie  a 
ariettes — music  by  Dezede — written  round  a  pleasing 
little  incident  in  the  life  of  Frederick  the  Great,  which 
had  very  probably  been  related  to  the  author  by  Prince 
Henry  of  Prussia,  might  prove  an  immense  success  at 
the  Comedie-Frangaise,  and,  moreover,  provide  her  friend 
Fleury  with  one  of  those  "  creations "  which,  when  they 
succeed,  establish  the  reputation  of  an  actor. 

She  accordingly  talked  the  matter  over  with  the 
author  and  Dezede,  the  result  being  that  the  piece,  which 
was  entitled  Auguste  et  Theodore^  ou  les  Deux  Pages — 
it  is  known  to  fame  by  its  sub-title — was  transferred 
from  the  "  Italians  "  to  the  Comedie- Fran9aise,  where 
it  was  produced  on  March  6,  1789,  Fleury  playing  the 
principal  part,  with  Mile.  Contat  as  the  hostess  of  the 
tavern. 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  249 

The  anticipations  of  the  actress  were  fully  verified. 
Les  Deux  Pages  was  received  with  the  most  unbounded 
enthusiasm  ;  Fleury  made  of  the  warrior  king  a  master- 
piece which  placed  him  in  the  very  front  rank  of  his 
profession  ;  ^  while  she  herself,  we  are  assured,  was  "  irre- 
sistible, her  beauty  and  frank  gaiety  carrying  all  before 
them." 

But  we  are  anticipating.  Between  the  Manage  de 
Figaro  and  the  production  of  Les  Deux  Pages  four  years 
had  elapsed — years  in  which  Louise  Contat  had  con- 
firmed the  great  reputation  which  her  creation  of  Suzanne 
had  secured  for  her  by  a  series  of  masterly  impersonations. 
In  high  comedy,  indeed,  she  was  supreme  and  without  a 
rival.  "  In  her  hands  the  fan  became  a  sceptre.  No 
one  comprehended  Moliere  better  ;  no  one  knew  how 
to  interpret  more  naturally  the  spirit  of  Marivaux.  She 
was  reproached  with  a  certain  amount  of  affectation  ; 
but  she  knew  how  to  combine  the  haughty  disposition 
of  Celimene  with  the  intelligent  vivacity  of  Dorine. 
Seductive  voice,  eloquent  eye,  charming  smile,  infinite 
tact,  amiable  dignity,  perfect  knowledge  of  situations — 
everything  in  her  combined  to  enchant  an  audience. 
None    of    the    characteristics    which    distinguished    the 

'  And  well  he  deserved  his  triumph,  for  surely  never  had  actor  been  at 
more  pains  to  secure  a  perfect  resemblance  to  the  character  he  was  to  im- 
personate !  "  In  the  first  place,"  he  teUs  us,  in  his  Memoires,  "  I  sought 
to  imbue  myself  with  the  idea  that  my  apartments  were  in  Potsdam,  instead 
of  in  Paris ;  and  I  resolved  to  retire  to  rest,  to  take  my  meals,  to  move,  and 
speak,  during  two  whole  months,  in  the  full  persuasion  that  I  was  Frederick 
the  Great.  The  better  to  identify  myself  with  the  character,  I  used  every 
morning  to  dress  myself  in  the  military  coat,  hat,  boots,  &c.,  I  had  ordered 
for  the  part.  Thus  equipped,  I  would  seat  myself  before  my  looking-glass, 
at  one  side  of  which  hung  Ramberg's  picture  of  the  King.  Then,  witli  the 
help  of  hair  pencils  and  a  palette  spread  with  black,  white,  red,  blue,  and 
yellow,  I  endeavoured  to  paint  my  face  to  the  resemblance  of  the  picture." 


250  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

society  of  the  old  regime  had  escaped  her,  and  '  from 
head  to  foot  she  was  grande  dame.^  "  ^ 

Her  triumphs  were  not  confined  to  the  capital.  She 
made  provincial  tours — tours  which  were  one  long  series 
of  ovations,  in  which  crowns  of  laurels  were  showered 
upon  her,  and  thousands  of  complimentary  verses  com- 
posed in  her  honour.  Once,  when  playing  with  Mole, 
at  Marseilles,  the  following  madrigal  was  addressed  to 
them  : 

"  Hier  un  enfant  d'Helicon 
D'un  secret  important  m'a  donnc  connaissance. 

Ami,  les  neuf  soeurs  d'Apollon 
N'ont  pas  toujours  6t6  si  chastes  que  I'on  pense  ; 
Thalie  (ah  !  qui  I'eut  cru),  sans  bruit  et  sans  eclat, 
A  deux  enfants  donna  naissance, 
L'un  est  M0I6,  I'autre  est  Contat." 

Like  nearly  all  the  members  of  her  profession,  Mile. 
Contat  was  exceedingly  charitable,  and  this  fact  no  doubt 
contributed  not  a  little  to  the  immense  popularity  which 
she  enjoyed  with  the  playgoing  public.  At  Lyons,  on 
one  occasion,  she  gave  a  performance  for  the  benefit  of 
the  poor  of  the  city,  which  realised  between  three  and 
four  thousand  livres.  At  Toulouse,  where  the  ten 
performances  originally  arranged  for  had  failed  to  satisfy 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  public,  she  gave  an  eleventh,  and 
distributed  the  proceeds  amidst  the  poor  of  Bareges, 
whither  she  was  proceeding  to  take  the  waters.  Once, 
when  visiting  an  asylum  for  persons  who  had  been  born 
blind,  to  converse  with  the  inmates  and  inscribe  her 
name  on  the  list  of  benefactors,  she  was  the  recipient  of 
a  pretty  compliment  from  a  blind  poet,  who  improvised 
a  quatrain,  in  which  he  gallantly  informed  her  that  she 

'  Gaboriau,  Les  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  191 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  251 

should  not  so  much  pity  those  who  had  lost  their  eyes, 

as  those  who  had  been  made  wretched  by  the  lustre  of 

her  own  : 

"  Digne  soutien  de  I'amiable  Thalie, 
Sur  notre  sort  pourquoi  vous  attendrir, 
S'il  est  quelques  mortels  qui  maudissent  la  vie, 
Ce  sont  que  vos  yeux  ont  rdduits  a  souffrir  .  .  ." 

By  right  of  her  beauty,  her  talent,  and  her  successes. 
Mile.  Contat  believed  herself  invested  with  the  right  of 
imposing  her  will  upon  her  comrades  and  dramatic 
authors.  With  the  latter  she  was  frequently  at  variance. 
During  the  rehearsals  of  Alexandre  Duval's  Edouard  en 
Ecosse,  she  demanded  some  alteration  in  one  of  the 
scenes.  The  author  refused,  declaring  that  the  altera- 
tion in  question  would  upset  all  his  combinations,  and, 
on  the  actress  insisting  on  his  compliance  with  her  views, 
appealed  to  the  other  players,  who,  however,  maintained 
a  discreet  silence,  having  no  mind  to  contradict  their 
imperious  comrade.  Beside  herself  with  passion,  the 
latter  threw  her  part  at  the  author's  head,  "  swearing  by 
all  her  gods  that  nothing  should  induce  her  to  act  in  any 
piece  of  his."  Duval,  thereupon,  took  his  manuscript 
from  the  hands  of  the  prompters,  and  stalked  out  of  the 
theatre,  coldly  observing  that  unless  the  piece  was  to  be 
played  as  he  had  written  it,  it  should  not  be  played  at  all. 
A  reconciliation  between  actress  and  author  was  sub- 
sequently effected,  and  the  play  produced,  but,  some 
time  later,  Duval  offended  the  lady  beyond  all  hope  of 
forgiveness,  by  daring  to  offer  to  Madame  Talma  a  part 
which  she  had  marked  for  her  own.^ 

Mile.  Contat's  jealousy,  indeed,  caused  her  to  beany- 

^  M.  Victor  du  Bled,  Lcs  Com  f  dims    franca  is  fcndant  la  Revolution, 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  vol.  cxxiv. 


252  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

thing  but  beloved  by  her  fair  comrades  at  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise.  Like  Madame  Saint-Huberty  at  the  Opera, 
she  could  not  endure  a  rival  on  the  stage.  She  absolutely 
refused  to  be  doubled,  and,  even  when  illness  prevented 
her  appearing,  it  was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  she  could  be  persuaded  to  allow  any  one  to  replace 
her. 

Moreover,  she  not  infrequently  abused  her  position 
as  queen  of  the  theatre,  and  her  endeavours  to  push  the 
fortunes  of  her  sister,  Emilie  Contat,  to  whom  she  was 
always  deeply  attached,  at  the  expense  of  more  deserving 
young  actresses,  was  a  fruitful  source  of  dissension. 
Emilie,  who  had  made  her  debut,  in  the  autumn  of  1784, 
as  Fanchette,  in  the  Manage  de  Figaro,  was  very  far  from 
the  "  deplorable  actress  "  which  Gaboriau  declares  her 
to  have  been,^  and  in  her  rendering  of  the  soubrettes 
of  Moliere  acquired  some  little  distinction.  At  the 
same  time,  she  had  no  pretensions  to  be  the  equal  of  Mile. 
Vanhove,  who  had  made  her  first  appearance  at  the  same 
time ;  and  Mile.  Contat's  efforts  to  secure  precedence 
for  her  sister  were  strongly  resented  not  only  in  the 
theatre  but  outside  it,  and  drew  upon  her  many  violent 
reproaches  in  both  prose  and  verse.  Marie  Antoinette 
herself  intervened  on  behalf  of  Mile.  Vanhove,  whom  she 
had  taken  under  her  protection,  and  secured  for  her  a 
part  which  Louise  Contat  had  intended  for  her  beloved 
Emilie.  When  the  all-powerful  actress  learnt  that  her 
wishes  had  been  subordinated  to  those  of  royalty,  she 
exclaimed  :   "  This  Queen  has  a  great  deal  of  influence  !  " 

Nevertheless,  Mile.  Contat  was  sincerely  attached  to 
the  Royal  Family,  and  to  Marie  Antoinette  in  particu- 
lar.    One  day,  the  Queen,  who  intended  to  be  present 
'  Les  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  194 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  253 

at  a  representation  of  the  Gouvernante,  sent  her  word 
that  she  should  like  to  see  her  play  the  principal  role. 
The  part  was  suited  neither  to  the  age  nor  the  talent 
of  the  lively  actress,  and  was,  besides,  a  long  and  difficult 
one.  She  might,  therefore,  have  fairly  begged  to  be 
excused,  but,  eager  to  please  the  Queen,  she  at  once  began 
to  study  it.  In  less  than  two  days,  she  had  mastered  the 
five  hundred  verses  of  which  it  consisted,  and  obtained 
a  great  success.  Writing  to  one  of  her  friends  soon 
afterwards,  she  observed,  in  allusion  to  this  tour  de  force  : 
"  I  was  ignorant  where  the  seat  of  memory  lay ;  I  know 
now  that  it  is  in  the  heart."  This  letter,  found  in  1793 
among  the  papers  of  a  suspected  person,  was  made  one 
of  the  charges  against  Mile.  Contat,  when,  in  September 
of  that  year,  she  was  arrested,  with  nearly  all  the  members 
of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  but,  thanks  to  the  courage 
of  Labussiere,  she  escaped  the  guillotine.^ 

On  her  release  from  Sainte-Pelagie,  Mile.  Contat 
returned  to  the  Comedie-Frang:aise,  now  called  the 
Theatre  de  I'Egalite,  from  which,  in  June  1795,  she 
migrated,  with  her  colleagues,  to  the  Theatre-Feydeau. 
After  the  bankruptcy  of  Sageret  and  the  dispersal  of  the 
company  he  had  formed,  she  accepted  an  engagement 
at  the  Bordeaux  theatre,  whither  Fleury  accompanied 
her.  Here  she  not  only  acted,  but  frequently  took  part 
in  opera-comique,  and,  having  an  agreeable  and  well- 
trained  voice,  greatly  delighted  her  audiences.  The 
enthusiasm  of  the  Bordelais,  both  inside  and  outside 
the  theatre,  reached  such  a  pitch  as  to  become  positively 
dangerous  for  its  object.  Crowds  gathered  at  the  stage 
door  to  witness  her  departure  at  the  end  of  a  perform- 
ance.   They  surrounded  her,  and  followed  her  with  such 

'  See  pp.  182  et  seq.,  supra. 


254  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

transports  of  delight  that,  at  once  flattered  and  alarmed, 
she  would  press  close  to  Fleury's  side  and  say,  with  an  air 
of  comic  gravity  :  "  My  friend,  these  people  enchant 
me.     Had  we  not  better  call  the  guard  ?  " 

On  the  reconstitution  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise, 
in  May  1799,  Mile.  Contat  resumed  her  place  in  the 
company,  and  speedily  regained  all  her  old  popularity. 
Under  the  Directory  and  Consulate,  indeed,  she  was 
more  than  ever  adored  by  the  public  and  particularly  by 
the  youth  of  the  capital,  "  who,  in  their  anxiety  to 
applaud  her,  forgot  to  pay  their  tailors'  bills." 

In  these  later  years.  Mile.  Contat,  having  become 
too  "  majestic  "  for  the  Elmires  and  Celimenes,  had  been 
compelled  to  abandon  the  emploi  in  which  she  was  still 
without  a  rival,  to  play  young  matrons.  If  she  had  been 
admirable  in  her  former  repertoire,  in  her  new  roles  she 
is  said  to  have  been  absolutely  inimitable,  and,  as  Madame 
de  Volmar,  in  the  Mariage  secret,  Julie,  in  the  Dissi- 
-pateur,  and  Madame  Evrard,  in  the  Vieux  Celibataire,  to 
have  reached  the  very  perfection  of  her  art. 

The  irregularities  of  Mile.  Contat's  youth,  and  the 
fact  that  she  had  a  daughter  and  two  sons — the  paternity 
of  at  least  one  of  whom  seems  to  have  been  very  much 
a  matter  of  opinion — to  remind  the  world  of  her  lapses 
from  the  path  of  rectitude,  did  not  deprive  her  of  the 
friendship  and  esteem  of  many  whose  friendship  and 
esteem  were  worth  possessing.  That  this  should  have 
been  the  case  was  due  to  two  reasons  :  first,  to  the  fact 
that  she  had  always  been  careful  to  observe  some  degree 
of  decorum  in  her  gallantries  and  to  cause  herself  to  be 
regarded  rather  as  the  victim  of  an  excessive  sensibility — 
a  kind  of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  in  fact — than  as  a  lady 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  255 

of  easy  virtue  ;  and,  secondly,  to  the  very  high  social 
qualities  which  she  undoubtedly  possessed — qualities  in 
which  she  was  surpassed  by  few  of  her  contemporaries. 

In  truth,  Louise  Contat  was  a  species  of  grande  dame, 
whose  salon  partook  of  the  appearance  of  the  salons  of 
former  times  ;  one  of  those  delightful  rendezvous  where 
the  exquisite  courtesy  and  tact  of  the  hostess  never  failed 
to  place  every  member  of  the  company,  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest,  immediately  at  his  ease.  To  see  the  actress 
in  the  midst  of  her  guests  must  have  been  a  useful  object- 
lesson  for  any  lady  who  aspired  to  social  popularity. 
"  With  what  art  she  knew  how  to  talk  to  some  the 
language  of  the  Court  of  Marie  Antoinette,  to  the  generals 
of  their  victories,  to  the  orators,  to  the  financiers,  of  their 
ambitions  or  their  affairs ;  to  salute  a  marquis  of  thirty- 
six  quarterings  with  a  sweeping  courtesy,  to  carve  an 
epigram,  to  improvise  a  quatrain,  to  analyse  a  play  !  .  .  . 
So  many  qualities  attracted,  conquered,  and  retained  the 
most  rebellious."  ^ 

Mile.  Contat's  early  education  had  been  somewhat 
neglected,  but  she  had  contrived  to  atone  for  its  defi- 
ciencies by  reading  and  conversation,  and  by  "  that 
precious  faculty  of  assimilation,  of  transforming  in  the 
crucible  of  an  original  nature  the  knowledge  and  the 
talent  of  others  into  her  own."  Her  conversation  was 
always  charming  and  witty,  though  her  wit  was  untinged 
by  malice — "  the  irony  of  Voltaire  tempered  by  feminine 
sweetness."  On  occasion,  however,  she  could  be  very 
severe  upon  those  who  blasphemed  her  idol — good  taste. 
One  day,  a  hunchbacked  duke,  a  well-meaning,  but 
somewhat    maladroit    person,    was    ill-advised    enough 

^  M.  Victor  du  Bled,  Les  Comedmis  fraufais  pe?idant  la    Revolution, 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  vol.  cxxiv. 


256  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

« 

to  remind  her  of  the  days,  now  alas  !  long  past,  when  she 
had  possessed  the  most  exquisite  figure  in  Paris.  Mile. 
Contat,  though  furious  at  the  pleasantry,  dissembled 
her  indignation,  but  bided  her  time  ;  and  when,  the 
conversation  happening  to  turn  upon  hunchbacked 
people,  the  duke  observed  that  Nature,  by  way  of  com- 
pensation, almost  invariably  endowed  those  so  afflicted 
with  intelligence  of  an  unusually  high  order,  exclaimed  : 
"  Ah  !  Monsieur  le  Duc^  vous  tCHcs  que  contrefait  !  " 

Yet  she  was  quite  incapable  of  bearing  malice,  and 
more  than  once  gave  proof  of  rare  magnanimity.  Placed 
under  surveillance  in  her  country-house  at  Ivry  during 
the  Terror,  she  saved  the  life  of  one  of  her  persecutors, 
who,  proscribed  in  his  turn,  threw  himself  upon  her 
compassion.  For  some  days,  she  concealed  him  in  her 
room,  bringing  him  his  food  with  her  own  hands.  Then, 
learning  that  search-parties  were  scouring  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  that  it  was  no  longer  safe  for  him  to  remain,  she 
took  the  gardener's  wife  into  her  confidence,  dressed  herself 
in  the  woman's  clothes,  disguised  her  guest  as  the  gardener's 
boy,  and  drove  him  in  a  cart  laden  with  vegetables  and  milk 
to  Choisy-le-Roi,  whence  he  was  able  to  make  his  escape 
to  Villeneuve-Saint-George  and  the  Forest  of  Senart. 

"  Men  of  letters  and  actresses,"  remarks  M.  du  Bled, 
"  have  always  possessed  an  attraction  for  one  another  ; 
interest,  end,  character,  all  create  between  them  affinities 
which  result  in  gallantry,  in  friendship,  and  in  love  ; 
the  former  invent,  the  latter  execute ;  glory,  gain, 
success,  and  failure  are  their  common  lot  ;  common 
also  the  place  of  triumph,  the  judge  who  awards  the  palm 
and  the  hisses."  ^     Mile.  Contat  had  many  friends  in  the 

^  M.  Victor   du   Bled,  Les  Comicliens   frangais   pendant   la   Revolution, 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  vol.  cxxiv. 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  257 

Republic  of  Letters,  and  her  salon  was  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  literary  resorts  in  Paris.  Thither  came  Vigee, 
author  of  the  successful  comedies,  Les  Aveux  difficiles. 
La  Fausse  Coquette^  and  UEntrevue ;  Desfaucherets, 
the  improvisor  of  proverbs,  whose  play  Le  Mariage  secret 
was  ascribed  by  the  sycophantic  courtiers  of  the  Restora- 
tion to  Louis  XVIIL,  just  as  they  ascribed  to  him 
Arnault's  Marius  a  Miturnes  and  Lemierre's  pretty 
quatrain  for  a  fan  : 

*'  Dans  les  temps  de  chaleurs  extremes 
Hereux  d'amuser  vos  loisirs, 
Je  saurai  pris  de  vous  amener  les  Zephirs, 
Les  Amours  y  viendront  d'eux-memes." 

— Maisonneuve,  the  author  of  Roxelane  et  Mustafha  ; 
Arnault,  whose  once  applauded  tragedies  have  long  since 
been  forgotten,  but  whose  Souvenirs  are  still  read  with 
pleasure,  one  of  the  intimate  friends  of  Bonaparte  during 
the  Directory  and  a  confidant  of  the  coup  d^Etat  of  the 
1 8th  Brumaire ;  and,  finally,  Lemercier,  one  of  the  most 
original  figures  of  his  time — Lemercier,  with  his  half- 
paralysed  body  and  brilliant  wit  ^  and  feverish  energy, 
perpetually  indulging  in  the  wildest  pranks  and  attempt- 
ing with  equal  ardour  every  branch  of  literature  :  poems, 
plays,  fiction,  and  philosophy  ;    a  courageous  and  honest 

'  Many  amusing  anecdotes  are  told  of  Lemercier's  wit.  Here  is  one, 
which  Ernest  Legouvd  relates  in  his  Soixante  ans  de  souvenirs  :  "  One  even- 
ing, he  (Lemercier)  was  seated  on  a  low  stool  in  the  gangway  of  the  first 
gallery  of  the  Theatre-Fran^ais.  Enter  a  young  officer,  making  a  great 
deal  of  noise,  slamming  the  door  violently  behind  him,  and  takmg  his  stand 
right  in  front  of  M.  Lemercier.  '  Monsieur,'  says  the  poet,  very  gently, 
*  you  prevent  my  seeing  anything.'  The  officer  turns  round  and,  staring  from 
his  towering  height  at  the  little,  inoffensive-looking  civilian,  humbly  seated 
on  his  low  stool,  resumes  his  former  position.  '  Monsieur,"  repeats  M. 
Lemercier,  more  emphatically,  '  I  have  told  you  that  you  prevent  me  from 

R 


258  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

man,  too,  who  declined  to  bow  the  knee  to  Napoleon 
and  saw,  in  consequence,  his  works — his  chief  source  of 
income — spitefully  interdicted  by  the  Imperial  censors, 
and  the  doors  of  the  Academy  closed  against  him. 

Under  the  Empire,  the  reputation  of  Mile.  Contat 
rose,  if  possible,  still  higher.  Napoleon  greatly  admired 
her  acting,  and  she  frequently  played  the  leading  parts 
in  the  theatrical  troupe  which  followed  his  victorious 
armies  and  gave  performances  in  the  towns  which  he 
had  conquered. 

On  January  26,  1809,  Mile.  Contat  married  Paul 
Marie  Claude  de  Forges  Parny,  a  retired  captain  of 
cavalry,  brother — and  not  nephew,  as  Gaboriau  and 
several  writers  state — of  the  poet,  Evarest  Desire  Parny. 

A  few  weeks  later,  yielding  to  the  solicitations  of  her 
friends,  she  decided  to  retire  from  the  stage,  after  a 
career  of  thirty-four  years.  It  is  believed  that  the  attacks 
made  upon  her  by  the  critic  Geoffroy  were  not  altogether 
unconnected  with  this  determination.  Her  last  appear- 
ance was  on  March  6,  1809,  as  the  tavern-hostess  in  Les 
Deux  Pages,  on  which  occasion  the  whole  of  the  takings 
were  devoted  to  her  benefit.  The  bill  that  evening  was 
a  triple  one.     First,  Ducis's  adaptation  of  Othello^  was 

seeing  the  stage,  and  I  command  you  to  get  out  of  the  way.'  '  You  com- 
mand ! '  retorts  his  interlocutor,  in  a  tone  of  contempt ;  '  do  you  know 
to  whom  you  are  speaking  ?  You  are  speaking  to  a  man  who  brought  back 
tlie  standards  from  the  army  of  Italy  ! '  '  That  is  very  possible,  Monsieur, 
seeing  that  it  was  an  ass  which  carried  Christ !  '  As  a  matter  of  course, 
there  was  a  duel,  and  the  officer  had  his  arm  broken  by  a  bullet." 

^  Ducis's  adaptation — or  distortion — of  Othello,  first  produced  on 
November  26,  1772,  differed  materially  from  the  original  play.  "  lago's 
villainy,"  says  Mr.  Hawkins,  in  his  "  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteentli  Cen- 
tury," "  was  thought  too  deep  and  patent,  especially  for  a  Parisian  audience. 
Pcsare,  as  the  ancient  is  called  here,  is  accordingly  transformed  into  some- 
thing like  an  ordinary  confidant,  to  all  appearance  full  of  sincere  bonhomie^ 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  259 

presented,  with  Talma  as  the  Moor.  Then  came  Les 
Deux  Pages  ;  and  the  entertainment  concluded  with  a 
grand  ballet  composed  by  Gardel,  for  which  all  the  lead- 
ing performers  of  the  Opera  gave  their  services.  The 
Emperor  and  Empress  assisted  at  the  representation, 
which,  says  the  'Journal  de  Paris,  was  "  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  that  had  taken  place  at  the  Theatre-Frangais 
for  thirty  years."  "  The  prices,"  continues  the  same 
journal,  "  were  more  than  tripled,  but,  to  judge  by  the 
eagerness  with  which  the  ticket-offices  were  besieged, 
one  may  believe  that,  even  if  they  had  been  quintupled^ 
it  would  not  have  prevented  the  theatre  from  being  filled. 
Mile.  Contat  was  several  times  called  before  the  curtain  ; 
and  all  the  spectators  were  unanimous  in  demanding 
her  reappearance  after  the  performance,  which  did  not 
conclude  until  a  very  late  hour."  ••■ 

After  her  marriage.  Mile.  Contat  sold  her  country- 
house  at  Ivry,  where  she  had  for  many  years  past  spent  a 
good  deal  of  her  time,  and  took  up  her  residence  perma- 
nently in  Paris,  where  her  house  became  the  resort  of 
some  of  the  most  agreeable  society  in  the  capital,  for, 
as  we  have  seen,  she  was  no  less  brilliant  in  private  life 
than  on  the  stage.  Unhappily,  she  did  not  live  long  to 
enjoy  her  well-earned  leisure.  She  was  already  suffering 
from  that  terrible  disease,  cancer,  and  she  soon  learned — 
by    an    accident — that    her    doom    was    sealed.     "  She 

and  with  his  dcviUsh  purpose  hidden  until  he  has  been  seen  for  the  last  time. 
Ducis,  it  has  been  well  remarked,  was  extremely  afraid  of  arousing  too  much 
emotion  among  his  auditors.  Another  essential  difference  lay  in  Cassio 
being  really  in  love  with  Desdemona  (re-named  Hedchnone)."  Changes 
of  minor  importance  were  the  substitution  of  a  letter  for  the  handkerchief, 
and  a  poniard  for  the  pillow.  Ducis  also  adapted — or  distorted — Havilet, 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  ]\Iacbeih,  and  Lear. 
^  Journal  de  Paris,  March  7,  1809 


26o  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

had  been  for  some  time  suffering  from  violent  pain  in 
her    breast,"    says    Fleury.     "  Her    medical    attendant, 
alarmed  by  her  increasing  illness,  recommended  her  to 
consult  the  celebrated   Dubois/  which  she  accordingly 
did.     After  some  conversation  with  her,   Dubois   said  ; 
'  Madame,  I  will  prescribe  a  course  of  treatment  for  you^ 
which  you  must  scrupulously  follow.      Call  on  me  again 
in  about  three  days'  time,  and,  in  the  meanwhile,  I  will 
see  your  doctor.'     On  the  appointed  day,  Contat  repeated 
her   visit   to   Dubois.     He   received   her   in   his   private 
cabinet  and,  after  a  little  conversation,  he  left  the  room, 
saying  he  should  be  with  her  again  in  a  few  moments. 
Casting   her    eyes    on    the    doctor's    writing-table,    near 
which  she  was  seated,  Contat  saw  her  own  name  written 
on  a  slip  of  paper.     It  was  merely  a  medical  prescription 
and,  after  glancing  at  it,  she  laid  it  down  again.     But 
beside  it  lay  a  sheet  of  paper  concealed,  on  which  Contat 
also  saw  her  name  written.     Unfortunately,  she  took  it 
up  and  read  it.     It  was  a  letter  which  Dubois  had  been 
writing  to  her  doctor.     The  first  few  lines  over  which 
she  cast  her  eye  declared  that  the  patient  was  doomed, 
and  that  it  would  be  useless  to  subject  her  to  a  painful 
operation,  which  could  not  possibly  save  her.     Contat 
fainted.     Dubois,  on  his  return,  perceived  that  she  had 
perused  the  fatal  paper.     He  bitterly  reproached  himself 
with  having  caused,  though  innocently,  a  state  of  mental 
despondency  calculated  to  hurry  the  patient  to  the  grave 
more  speedily  even  than  the  disease  itself,  certain  as  was 
its  fatal  termination.     The  kind-hearted  man  paid  her 

'  Antoine  Dubois  (1756-1837),  the  leading  obstetric  surgeon  of  the  time. 
He  assisted  at  the  accouchement  of  the  Empress  Marie  Louise,  and  was 
made  a  baron  of  the  Empire.  His  son,  Paul  Dubois,  was  also  a  celebrated 
accoucheur,  and  the  author  of  several  able  works  on  obstetrics. 


MADEMOISELLE  CONTAT  261 

the  most  assiduous  attention  and  sought  to  cheer  her 
by  a  faint  ray  of  hope.  But  in  vain  ;  the  blow  had  been 
struck. 

"  Contat,  however,  behaved  with  no  want  of  forti- 
tude. At  the  first  shock,  she  was  naturally  staggered. 
She  afterwards  became  almost  indifferent  to  her  situation. 
Her  mind  was  cheerful,  and  she  retained  her  grace  and 
good-humour  to  the  last.  When  in  the  midst  of  her  family 
and  friends,  she  successfully  concealed  her  pain  and 
anxiety.  In  this  manner,  she  lived  two  years  from  the 
time  she  so  strangely  gained  the  knowledge  of  her  real 
condition  ;  and  it  was  only  within  a  fortnight  before 
her  death  that  she  began  to  complain.  Thus  died 
(March  9,  1813)  one  of  the  most  brilliant  actresses  of 
which  the  French  stage  has  ever  been  able  to  boast." 

Amalrie  Contat,  Mile.  Contat's  daughter,  presumably 
by  the  Comte  d'Artois,  adopted  her  mother's  profession 
and  made  her  debut,  in  1805,  as  Dorine  in  Tartuffe,  and 
the  soubrette,  in  Le  Cercle,  with  immense  success. 
Unfortunately,  the  great  hopes  then  formed  of  her  were 
very  far  from  being  fulfilled  ;  and  when,  three  years 
later,  she  retired  from  the  stage,  in  order  to  make  a  rich 
marriage,  she  ranked  as  an  actress  of  only  moderate 
ability. 


VI 
MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY 


VI 

MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY 

On  a  certain  afternoon,  early  in  September  1777,  a 
rehearsal  of  Gluck's  Armide  was  about  to  begin  at  the 
Opera.  The  stage  was  crowded  with  the  artistes  of 
both  sexes,  their  friends  and  their  admirers,  for,  as  we 
have  said  elsewhere,  in  those  days  it  was  the  fashion  to 
attend  the  rehearsals  of  any  new  opera  or  play  which 
happened  to  be  arousing  unusual  interest,  and  the  fame 
of  the  little  German  composer  was  at  its  height. 

It  was  a  brilliant  assembly  ;  youth,  beauty,  talent, 
rank,  and  wealth  were  all  represented  there.  The 
women  especially  were  in  full  force,  the  queens  of  song 
and  the  stars  of  the  dance  :  Duranceray,  Beaumesnil, 
Sophie  Arnould,  Rosalie  Levasseur,  Laguerre,  Heinel, 
Guimard,  Peslin,  Allard,  Theodore,  and  a  bevy  of  minor 
divinities,  the  demoiselles  of  the  ballet  and  the  ladies 
of  the  ;chorus,  many  of  whose  names,  though  unknown  to 
dramatic  fame,  were  already  writ  large  in  the  annals  of 
gallantry  :  the  two  Lilys,  the  blonde  and  the  brunette  ; 
Lolotte,  who  had  the  finest  horses  in  Paris ;  Droma, 
whose  extravagance  had  so  completely  ruined  a  rich 
merchant  of  the  Rue  Saint-Honore  that  nothing  was 
left  for  the  unfortunate  man  but  to  hang  himself,  and 
Rosette,  for  whose  favours  two  abbes  had  recently 
fought. 

A  brilliant  assembly  and  a  bravely-dressed  one  too  ; 


266  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

for  even  the  figurante  drawing  her  eight  hundred  or  a 
thousand  livres  a  year  seemed  to  find  no  difficulty  in 
patronising  the  establishments  of  M.  Pagelle,  of  Les  Traits 
Galants,  or  M.  Bertin,  of  the  Grand  Mogol.  There 
was,  however,  an  exception.  In  a  remote  corner  sat  a 
young  woman  alone,  whose  pale,  drawn  face  bore  the 
marks  of  cruel  struggles  and  long  suffering,  and  whose 
simple,  black  gown,  patched  in  more  than  one  place, 
afforded  a  striking  contrast  to  the  gorgeous  toilettes 
around  her.  No  one  spoke  to  her,  no  one  heeded  her  ; 
the  gay  throng  was  too  much  occupied  with  its  own 
affairs  to  have  a  thought  to  bestow  on  so  insignificant 
a  person,  until  a  movement  on  her  part  happened  to 
arrest  the  attention  of  a  gorgeously-attired  damsel,  who, 
with  a  mocking  smile,  exclaimed:  "^Z?,  tiens !  voila 
Madame  La  Ressource."  ^ 

At  these  words,  Gluck,  who  was  talking  with  the 
conductor  of  the  orchestra,  abruptly  terminated  his  con- 
versation, and,  turning  round,  exclaimed,  in  a  voice 
which  could  be  heard  by  all  :  "  You  have  well  named 
her  Madame  La  Ressource,  for  one  day  she  will  be  the 
resource  of  the  Opera  !  " 

This  speech  would  appear  to  have  been  nothing 
more  than  a  jest  on  the  part  of  the  composer  ;  since 
never  could  he  have  even  suspected,  at  that  time,  how 
fully  his  prediction  was  to  be  verified  ;  never  could  he 
have  foreseen  the  astonishing  triumphs  which  awaited 
this  humble  coryphee,  still  confined  to  the  roles  of  con- 
fidante and  secondary  divinity.  For  the  young  woman, 
"  thus  derided  by  vice,  thus  defended  by  genius,"  was 
none  other  than  Anne  Antoinette  Cecile  Clavel,  known 
to  fame  as  Madame  Saint-Huberty  ! 

^  A  character  in  the  Joueur  of  Rcgnard. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  267 

The  life  of  Antoinette  Clavel  had  been  a  peculiarly- 
sad  one ;  one  long  course  of  privation,  misfortunes, 
disappointments,  and  disillusions.  Born  at  Strasburg, 
on  December  15,  1756,  she  was  now  in  her  twenty-first 
year.  Her  father,  a  musician,  formerly  a  member  of  a 
French  troupe  in  the  service  of  the  Elector  Palatine, 
and,  at  the  time  of  Antoinette's  birth,  attached  to  the 
Strasburg  theatre,  had  commenced  his  little  daughter's 
musical  education  before  she  was  well  out  of  the  nursery. 
The  child,  like  Sophie  Arnould,  early  gave  promise  of 
exceptional  talent.  At  the  age  of  twelve,  she  sang  to 
her  own  harpsichord  accompaniment,  "  with  so  much 
taste  and  sweetness  that  she  excited  the  admiration  of 
all  who  heard  her."  The  fame  of  her  precocious  talent 
quickly  spread  abroad,  and  the  managers  of  several  foreign 
and  provincial  theatres  offered  her  engagements.  But 
her  father  and  mother,  "  cherishing  in  her  the  germ  of 
those  virtues  with  which  they  had  inspired  her,  had  no 
mind  to  deliver  her  youth  into  distant  towns,  to  the 
danger  of  seduction  by  those  amiable  and  opulent  men 
who  delight  in  the  criminal  victories  they  achieve  over 
innocence,"  refused  to  allow  her  to  appear,  except  at 
the  Strasburg  theatre,  where  "  they  were  able  to  direct 
at  its  outset  a  career  so  slippery  for  a  young  and  in- 
experienced girl." 

Here  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  leader  of  the  orchestra,  Lemoine,  a  French 
composer  who  was  later  to  achieve  success  in  Paris. 
Lemoine,  a  kind-hearted  and  excellent  man,  gave  the 
girl  lessons  and  allotted  her  a  part  in  a  little  piece  of  his 
own,  Le  Bouquet  de  Colinette.  Never  was  there  a  more 
grateful  pupil.  In  after  years,  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
made  the^most   heroic  efforts  to  assure  the  success   of 


268  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  somewhat  mediocre  works  of  her  first  professor, 
of  whose  kindness  to  her  when  she  was  a  child  she  could 
never  speak  without  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  used  to  go  to  his  house  in  the  morning,"  she  related 
to  one  of  her  friends.  "  As  it  was  cold  and  he  was  not 
well  off,  he  remained  in  bed  until  the  morning  rehearsal, 
in  order  to  save  wood.  When  I  arrived  to  take  my 
lesson,  I  used  to  find  him  rolled  up  in  his  blankets,  with 
a  great  woollen  night-cap  on  his  head,  which  reached  to 
his  eyes.  '  Ah  !  there  you  are,  little  one,'  he  would  say 
to  me,  and  would  throw  me  one  of  the  blankets,  in  which 
I  wrapped  myself  as  well  as  I  could.  Then  I  used  to 
sing,  beating  time  with  my  feet  with  all  my  strength, 
in  order  to  keep  them  warm. 

"  In  the  evening,  I  accompanied  my  father  to  the 
theatre.  Often  I  was  a  -figurante,  and  Lemoine,  who 
knew  that  we  made  but  poor  cheer  at  home,  always 
contrived  to  give  me  some  tit-bits,  off  which  I  might 
make  a  good  supper. 

"  My  father  was  indebted  to  him  for  several  pupils, 
who  paid  him  fairly  well.  Finally,  he  presented  us  to 
Count  Branicki,  an  immensely  wealthy  nobleman,  at 
whose  house  plays  were  frequently  performed."  ^ 

Antoinette  Clavel  had  been  engaged  two  or  three  years 
at  the  Strasburg  theatre  when  there  arrived  in  the  city 
a  man  who  described  himself  as  director-general  of  the 
"  Menus-Plaisirs  "  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  stated 
that  the  object  of  his  visit  was  to  seek  for  fresh  talent 
for  the  French  troupe  at  Berlin.  In  his  presumed  official 
capacity,  he  had  no  difficulty  in  procuring  admission  to 
the  coulisses  of  the  theatre,  where  he  soon  became  on 
terms  of  friendly  intimacy  with  the  actors  and  actresses, 
'  Gaboriau,  Les  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  207. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  269 

and  with  Antoinette  in  particular.  Claude  Croisilles 
de  Saint-Huberty,  for  by  that  high-sounding  name 
was  the  gentleman  known,  was  still  young,  but  had  seen 
much  of  the  world,  of  good  appearance,  and  a  fluent  talker, 
whose  honeyed  words  were  well  calculated  to  excite  the 
imagination  of  inexperienced  women,  for  whom  he  had 
all  the  attraction  of  the  successful  adventurer. 

He  made  such  magnificent  promises  to  Antoinette, 
and  held  out  to  her  the  hope  of  such  a  brilliant  career, 
that,  one  fine  day,  in  the  spring  of  1775,  the  young  girl 
resolved  to  leave  her  parents  secretly  and  follow  M. 
Croisilles  de  Saint-Huberty  to  Berlin.  Here  disillusion 
awaited  her.  The  pretended  director  of  the  "  Menus- 
Plaisirs  "  of  the  King  of  Prussia  proved  to  be  merely 
the  stage-manager  of  the  French  troupe,  who  could  only 
very  partially  carry  out  the  conditions  of  the  engagement 
which  had  induced  Mile.  Clavel  to  quit  the  paternal 
roof. 

Whether  Antoinette  was  Saint-Huberty's  mistress, 
or  only,  as  she  herself  asserted,  an  ambitious  young  artiste 
decoyed  away  by  the  promise  of  an  advantageous  engage- 
ment is  uncertain.  But,  however  that  may  be,  Saint- 
Huberty  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  become  her  husband  ; 
nor  is  his  motive  difficult  to  understand.  So  far  from 
having  any  right  to  the  aristocratic  patronymic  he  bore, 
he  was  the  son  of  a  merchant  at  Metz,  named  simply 
Croisilles,  and  had  left  home  in  order  to  gratify  a  passion 
for  the  stage.  A  needy  and  unscrupulous  adventurer, 
he  foresaw  for  the  young  singer  a  successful,  and  possibly 
a  brilliant,  career,  upon  the  emoluments  of  which  he  might 
levy  toll ;  while  if,  by  chance,  her  success  was  not  in 
accordance  with  his  expectations,  he  would  always  be 
able  to  obtain  the  annulment  of  a  marriage  contracted 


270  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

in  a  foreign  country  and  without  the  consent  of  the  parents 
of  either  party.  And  so  from  morning  until  night  he 
importuned  Antoinette  to  marry  him,  expatiating  upon 
the  vast  possessions  of  the  house  of  Saint-Huberty — 
possessions  well-nigh  as  boundless  as  his  love  for  her — 
which,  he  declared,  would  one  day  be  his,  the  brilliant 
future  he  could  assure  his  wife,  and  so  forth.  Nor  did 
he  plead  in  vain.  At  the  end  of  four  or  five  months, 
the  poor  girl,  alone  in  a  foreign  city,  friendless,  and  almost 
penniless,  had  the  weakness  to  consent ;  and  the  marriage 
was  celebrated  on  September  lo,  1775,  in  the  parish  of 
St.  Hedgwig,  the  so-called  Saint-Huberty  being  described 
as  "  native  of  France,  stage-manager  of  the  French 
troupe  of  his  Majesty  the  King  of  Prussia,"  and  Antoi- 
nette as  "  Jungfrau  Maria  Antonia,  native  of  Strasburg, 
actress."  ^ 

The  young  bride  was  very  speedily  enlightened  as 
to  her  husband's  real  character  and  the  motives  which 
had  led  him  to  make  her  his  wife.  "  The  third  night  of 
our  marriage,"  she  says,  in  a  memoir  which  she  subse- 
quently drew  up  for  an  annulment  of  the  union,  "  was 
marked  by  the  grossest  language  on  the  part  of  the  sieur 
Croisilles,  accompanied  by  a  pair  of  sound  boxes  on  the 
ear,  because  the  counterpane  was  more  on  my  side  than 
his."  And,  a  few  weeks  later,  Saint-Huberty  secretly 
quitted  Berlin,  carrying  off  everything  of  value  that  his 
wife  possessed. 

From  Berlin,  whence  the  too-pressing  attentions  of 
his  creditors  had  been  the  cause  of  his  abrupt  departure, 
M.  Saint-Huberty  made  his  way  to  Warsaw,  from  which 
city  he  presently  wrote  to  his  wife,  informing  her  that 

*   Edmond    de   Goncourt,  Madame   Saint-Huberty,   d'apres  sa   corre- 
spondance  et  scs  papier s  de  famille,  p.  12. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  271 

he  had  just  formed  an  operatic  company,  whose  first 
performance  had  been  warmly  applauded  at  the  Polish 
Court,  and  that  her  assistance  alone  was  wanting  to  make 
it  worthy  to  perform  before  the  sovereigns  of  the  North. 

The  rascal's  pen  must  have  been  as  persuasive  as  his 
tongue,  since  Antoinette  at  once  decided  to  rejoin  her 
husband.  She  arrived  at  Warsaw,  only  to  find  that  the 
company  which  was  supposed  to  have  already  achieved 
such  great  tilings  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  never  given  any- 
thing but  rehearsals.  Finally,  however,  it  gave  its  first 
performance  in  pubHc  and,  thanks  to  the  efforts  of  the 
young  singer,  appears  to  have  made  a  very  favourable 
impression. 

Intoxicated  with  his  success,  Saint-Huberty  deter- 
mined to  extend  the  scope  of  his  operations  and  establish 
his  troupe  on  a  permanent  basis.  With  this  end  in  view, 
he  started  for  Hamburg,  "  in  search  of  suitable  recruits," 
after  which  he  had  the  imprudence  to  visit  Berlin.  It 
was  to  venture  into  the  lion's  den.  Scarcely  had  he  set 
foot  in  the  town,  than  he  was  recognised,  arrested,  and 
thrown  into  prison,  where  his  creditors  announced  their 
intention  of  keeping  him  until  he  should  have  paid  the 
uttermost  pfenning. 

The  troupe  which  he  had  left  at  Warsaw,  deprived 
of  its  director  and  its  salaries,  for  we  may  presume  that  M. 
Saint-Huberty  had  taken  most  of  its  available  cash  with 
him,  found  itself  in  a  parlous  condition.  In  the  mean- 
time, however,  Antoinette  had  scored  a  great  personal 
triumph  in  the  opera  of  Zemire  et  Azor^  when  the  recep- 
tion she  met  with  must  have  exceeded  her  fondest  antici- 
pations. Warsaw,  in  those  days,  was  essentially  a  city 
of  pleasure ;  and  its  upper  classes  prided  themselves 
on   following   the   manners   and   modes   of  Paris.     The 


272  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Opera  was  especially  high  in  favour,  and,  as  the  public 
was  not  very  discriminating  and  lavishly  generous  to 
those  who  earned  its  approbation,  artistes  of  very  mediocre 
talent,  who  in  Paris  would  have  been  accounted  fortunate 
to  be  received  in  nothing  worse  than  silence,  found 
themselves  lauded  to  the  skies  and  loaded  with  gifts. 
The  enthusiasm  evoked  by  Madame  Saint-Huberty's 
singing  found  vent  in  numerous  valuable  presents  being 
made  to  the  artiste,  who  was  thus  enabled  to  realise  a 
sum  of  12,000  livres,  wherewith  she  proceeded  to  release 
her  worthless  husband  from  his  Prussian  dungeon.  That 
gentleman,  accordingly,  returned  to  Warsaw ;  but  his 
creditors  in  the  Polish  capital,  encouraged  by  the  success 
which  had  attended  the  proceedings  of  their  fellow 
victims  in  Berlin,  assumed  so  threatening  an  attitude 
that,  after  a  brief  period  of  repose,  he  judged  it  expedient 
to  resume  his  travels,  and,  one  fine  night,  suddenly 
disappeared. 

According  to  his  custom,  M.  Saint-Huberty  did  not 
depart  with  empty  hands.  This  time  he  had  carried 
off  not  only  all  his  wife's  ready  money,  but  even  the 
contents  of  her  wardrobe,  including  the  costumes  which 
she  wore  upon  the  stage,  leaving  her  without  resources 
and  almost  without  clothes.  Happily,  a  wealthy  and 
generous  Polish  lady,  the  Princess  Lubomirska,  took 
compassion  upon  the  unfortunate  actress,  refurnished 
her  wardrobe,  and  gave  her  shelter  for  three  months 
in  her  own  palace. 

Soon,  however,  difficulties  arose  with  her  husband's 
numerous  creditors,  who  endeavoured  to  fix  upon  her  the 
responsibility  for  the  debts  which  the  fugitive  impresario 
had  contracted  ;  and,  in  order  to  free  herself  from  all 
responsibility  in  connection  with  his  liabilities,  Madame 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  273 

Saint-Hubcrty  was  obliged  to  obtain  from  the  authorities 
at  Warsaw  a  formal  separation,  in  regard  to  property. 
And  here  is  the  declaration  which  she  made  on  this 
occasion,  bearing  date  March  17,  1777  : 

"  Before  the  notaries  and  public  ofBcers  of  the  ancient 
town  of  Warsaw,  appearing  in  person,  the  noble  dame 
Antoinette  de  Clavel,  wife  of  the  nobleman  Philippe  de 
Saint-Huberty,  assisted  for  the  present  deed  by  the  counsel 
of  the  nobleman  Georges  Godin,  present  and  called  by 
her  to  this  effect :  The  said  Antoinette  de  Clavel,  being 
of  sound  mind  and  body,  of  her  own  full  accord  has 
freely  and  expressly  declared  and  does  declare  by  the 
present  act  :  that  having  learned  that  the  nobleman 
Philippe  de  Saint-Huberty,  her  husband,  had  quitted 
Warsaw,  on  account  of  the  great  number  of  debts  by 
which  he  was  overwhelmed,  and  being  ignorant  even  of  the 
place  to  which  he  had  retired,  and  unwilling  to  be  bound  in 
any  manner  by  the  debts  of  her  husband,  which  he  had 
contracted  without  any  participation  on  her  part,  she 
separates  herself  from  all  the  goods  and  property  generally 
of  her  said  husband,  excepting,  nevertheless,  the  goods 
which  she  has  acquired  and  brought  with  her  ;  and  the 
said  dame  de  Clavel  declares,  moreover,  by  a  formal 
declaration,  that  she  makes  no  claim  whatever  to  the  said 
property,  and  approving  entirely  of  the  present  separa- 
tion from  the  goods  of  her  husband,  she  has  signed 
the  present  deed  with  her  own  hand. — Antoinette  de 
Clavel,  by  marriage  Saint-Huberty,  J.  Godin,  as 
witness."  ^ 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  "  nobleman  "  referred  to  in 
the  aforegoing  document  had  settled  in  Vienna,   from 

^  Cited  by  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  d^apres  sa 
correspondance  et  ses  papiers  de  famille,  p.  14. 


s 


274  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

which  city  he  wrote  to  his  wife,  to  inform  her  that  he 
had  arranged  to  open  an  opera-house,  which  he  was 
confident  would  be  the  means  of  assuring  him  an  ample 
fortune,  and  to  urge  her  to  join  him  without  delay.  As 
may  be  supposed,  after  her  sad  experiences,  the  poor  lady 
was  inclined  to  regard  these  assurances  with  some  sus- 
picion ;  and,  on  the  advice  of  the  Princess  Lubomirska, 
she,  for  some  time,  declined  to  leave  Warsaw.  But 
Saint-Huberty  pleaded  so  eloquently  in  the  letters  which 
he  continued  to  send  her  that  ultimately  she  relented, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  her  kind-hearted 
patroness,  took  the  road  to  Vienna. 

Here  she  quickly  found  that  the  opera-house  and 
the  brilliant  prospects  had  no  existence,  save  in  the 
imagination  of  M.  Saint-Huberty,  who  was  reduced 
to  such  straits  as  to  be  actually  in  want  of  bread, 
and  had  only  sent  for  his  wife  in  order  to  save  himself 
from  starvation.  Happily,  almost  so  soon  as  she 
arrived,  circumstances  compelled  the  impresario  to  quit 
Vienna  in  the  same  manner  as  he  had  quitted  Berlin 
and  Warsaw. 

The  young  singer  now  found  herself  without  an  en- 
gagement, and  free  to  go  wherever  she  might  choose. 
Like  almost  every  operatic  artiste,  her  thoughts  had 
often  turned  towards  the  Academic  Royale  de  Musique, 
where  Gluck  was  now  supreme,  and  she,  accordingly, 
solicited  an  ordre  de  debut.  This  was  easily  obtained, 
the  Opera  being  just  at  that  time  sorely  in  need  of  fresh 
talent  to  fittingly  interpret  the  master's  works,  and,  in 
April  1777,  she  set  out  for  Paris.  Arrived  in  the  French 
capital,  she  lost  no  time  in  obtaining  an  introduction  to 
the  great  composer,  who,  quick  to  recognise  ability 
wherever  he  found  it,  promised  to  give  her  lessons  him- 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  275 

self,^  and  recommended  her  for  a  part  in  his  forthcoming 
opera. 

On  September  23,  1777,  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
made  her  debut  in  the  small  part  of  Melisse,  in  Armide^ 
and  the  Mercure  de  France  referred  to  her  performance 
in  the  following  terms  : 

"  She  has  an  agreeable  voice.  She  sings  and  acts 
with  much  delicacy  of  expression.  She  appears  to  be 
an  excellent  musician,  and  needs  only  a  little  stage  expe- 
rience in  order  to  acquire  greater  development  for  her 
voice  and  greater  ease  for  her  acting." 

In  spite  of  this  encouraging  notice,^  the  newcomer 
appears  to  have  attracted  but  little  attention,  in  the  midst 
of  an  event  of  such  importance  as  a  new  work  by  Gluck. 
Who,  after  all,  was  this  modest  debutante^  beside  such  stars 
as  Legros,  Larrivee,  Gelin,  Rosalie  Levasseur,  and  Mile. 
Duranceray } 

On   first   arriving   in   Paris,   Madame   Saint-Huberty 

'  If  one  is  to  believe  a  little  brochure  of  the  time,  bearing  the  title 
of  Chronique  scmidaleuse  des  theatres,  on  A"jentures  des  -plus  celehres 
actrices,  chanteuses,  danseuses,  et  -figurantes^  the  lessons  given  by  Gluck  to 
Madame  Saint-Huberty  were  not  entirely  gratuitous.  "  In  one  of 
those  moments  of  incontinency  to  which  the  greatest  men  often  yield, 
the  celebrated  Gluck  recognised  in  her  talents  which  had  not  even  been 
suspected  and  which  attached  him  to  her.  He  resolved  to  make  of  her 
an  actress.  In  like  manner,  the  famous  Champmesle  was  formed  by  the 
care  and  counsels  of  Racine.  However,  cme  ought  not  to  compare 
the  German  Orpheus  to  the  French  Euripides.  Gluck  sought  less  to 
teach  the  sentiments  of  which  he  taught  her  the  expression,  than  to 
inspire  her  with  the  lire  of  his  genius,  and,  as  he  had  always  preserved 
the  rusticity  of  his  German  manners,  he  did  not  often  fail  to  commit 
himself  to  it  in  his  lessons.   .   .   ." 

^  All  the  critics  were  not  so  kind  as  the  scribe  of  the  Mercure,  and 
one  went  so  far  as  to  declare  that  the  debutante  was  "  very  ugly,  very 
bad,"  and  that  "  she  could  not  possibly  long  retain  her  position  on  the 
lyric  stage." 


276  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

had  lodged  in  the  Rue  Sainte-Croix  de  la  Bretonnerie, 
at  the  house  of  a  dame  Sorel,  after  which  we  find  her 
residing  successivel}^  at  the  Hotel  de  Geneve,  the  Hotel 
de  Bayonne,  and  the  Hotel  des  Treize-Provinces.^     At 
all  these  places  she  lived  alone,  for,  though  her  worthless 
husband  had  followed  her  to  Paris,  she  very  prudently 
refused  to  receive  him  back,  until  she  was  assured  that 
he  had  mended  his  ways.     As,  however,  he  had  no  means 
of  livelihood,  and  she  could  not  allow  him  to  starve,  she 
obtained  for  him,   through  the   good  oil&ces   of  Gluck, 
the  post  of  wardrobe-keeper  at  the  Opera,  which,  as  one 
of  her   biographers  very   sensibly  remarks,  was   scarcely 
a  proper  appointment  for  a  gentleman  with  a  weakness 
for    carrying    off    other    people's    garments    and    raising 
money  upon  them.     M.  Saint-Huberty  was,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  very  speedily  discharged,  upon  which  he  revenged 
himself  by  hawking  about  the  streets  and  "  reading  aloud 
in  the  cafes  and  even  in  certain  private  houses  to  which 
he    was    admitted,"    a    libellous    pamphlet    against    the 
authorities   of   the   Opera,   composed   by   a   confederate 
named  Dode  de  Jousserand.     In  order  to  keep  himself 
in  funds,  he  paid  frequent  visits  to  his  unhappy  wife, 
from  whom  he  did  not  hesitate,  when  argument  failed, 
to   extort   money   by   threats   and   even   blows  ;     while, 
when  she  had  nothing  to  give  him,  he  would  seize  upon 
any  saleable  article  which  happened  to  catch  his  eye, 
and  carry  it  off.     One  day,  while  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
was  at  the  theatre,  he  swooped  down  and  made  a  clear 
sweep  of  all  the  portable  property  of  the  luckless  singer, 
who  was  compelled  to  lay  a  complaint  against  him  before 
the  commissary  of  police  of  her  quarter.     Here  is  the 
text  of  this  document  : 

'  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  p.  20. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  277 

"  In  the  year  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-eight, 
Friday,  the  thirty-first  of  July,  at  nine  o'clock  of  the 
evening,  in  the  hotel,  and  before  us  Joseph  Chcsnon  fils, 
advocate  to  the  Parliament,  counsellor  of  the  King, 
commissary  to  the  Chdlelet  of  Paris,  appeared  demoiselle 
Anne  Antoinette  Clavel,  called  Saint-Huberty,  King's 
pensioner  at  the  Opera,  who  informed  us  that  the  sieur 
de  Saint-Huberty,  who  claims  to  be  married  to  her,  in 
virtue  of  a  pretended  act  of  celebration  in  Berlin,  has 
abused  the  confidence  of  the  complainant  for  nearly 
three  years,  in  order  to  install  himself  in  her  abode  and 
to  remain  there  in  spite  of  her  ;  to  make  himself  master 
there,  and  even  to  maltreat  her.  He,  nevertheless, 
several  times  left  the  house,  but  always  carried  away 
with  him  jewels  and  other  property  of  the  complainant, 
which  he  pledged  and  sold.  He  would  again  force  his 
way  in,  but  with  empty  hands,  and  the  complainant 
was  unable  to  do  anything  against  such  persecution, 
being  without  her  papers. -"^  Finally,  this  same  day, 
while  she  was  at  the  Opera,  the  sieur  Saint-Huberty 
has  again  taken  advantage  of  her  confidence  and  her 
absence  to  carry  off  the  goods,  papers,  and  music  of  the 
complainant,  including  even  music  which  belongs  to  the 
Opera. 

"  She  finds  herself  in  the  greatest  embarrassment? 
and  the  sieur  Saint-Huberty  is  cunning  enough  to  ask 
her,  by  a  letter,  dated  Wednesday,  the  twenty-ninth  of 
this  month,  for  papers  and  goods  which  he  has  already 
taken  the  precaution  to  carry  off.  For  which  reasons, 
and  in  order  that  she  may  enjoy  peace  at  home,  of  which 

'  It  is  not  clear  what  papers  are  referred  to,  but,  in  all  probability, 
they  were  those  relating  to  the  separation  of  her  goods  from  those  of  her 
husband  which  she  had  obtained  at  Warsaw,  in  March  1777. 


278  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  sieur  Saint-Hubertyhas  for  a  long  time  deprived  her, 
and  to  force  the  said  Saint-Huberty  to  restore  to  her  her 
property,  papers,  and  music,  and,  in  particular,  that 
which  belongs  to  the  Opera,  she  has  come  to  lodge  the 
present  plaint  against  the  sieur  Saint-Huberty,  requiring 
from  us  the  act  which  we  have  given  her  and  signing  the 
minute  in  our  presence."  ^ 

On  an  order  from  the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  a  portion 
of  the  stolen  property  was  subsequently  restored  ;  but 
if  Madame  Saint-Huberty  flattered  herself  that  she  was 
safe  from  further  depredations,  she  was  speedily  un- 
deceived. On  August  lo,  she  removed  to  a  little  apart- 
ment in  the  Rue  de  I'Arbre  Sec,  in  the  house  of  Gourdan, 
one  of  the  King's  valets-de-chambre,  for  which  she  paid 
a  rental  of  490  livres  and  had  furnished  herself.  Three 
weeks  later,  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  she  was 
sleeping  peacefully,  dreaming  perhaps  of  the  time  not 
far  distant  when  all  the  musical  world  would  be  at  her 
feet,  when  she  was  abruptly  awakened  by  the  entrance 
of  four  men,  amongst  whom  she  at  once  recognised  the 
scoundrelly  Saint-Huberty.  That  worthy,  pointing  to 
a  person  attired  in  the  black  garb  of  a  commissary  of 
police,  to  indicate  that  he  had  legal  authority  for  what 
he  was  about  to  do,  cried  :  "  The  pockets,  Messieurs  ; 
search  her  pockets."  The  hapless  woman  was  then 
dragged  from  her  bed,  and,  while  the  man  in  black  held 
her  in  his  arms,  her  husband  showered  blows  upon  her, 
after  which  he  took  a  pair  of  scissors  and  cut  the  ribands 
of  the  pockets  of  her  night-dress,  inflicting  several 
severe  scratches  in  the  process.     Next,  having  possessed 

^  Cited    by  Campardon,   VAcaiemie   royale   de  Muiique  au  XVIII' 
Steele :  Article,  "  Saint-Huberty." 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  279 

himself  of  her  keys,  he  opened  all  the  drawers  and  cup- 
boards in  the  apartment,  and  proceeded  to  ransack  them, 
at  the  same  time  addressing  to  his  wife  the  most  shock- 
ing language.  Finally,  a  fifth  person,  also  clad  in  black, 
entered,  who  announced  himself  as  the  procurator  of 
the  husband,  but,  like  his  fellows,  only  laughed  at  the 
poor  actress's  distress,  and  declined  to  answer  when  she 
demanded  to  see  his  authority.  When  her  husband  and 
his  confederates  had  taken  their  departure,  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  found  that  she  had  been  robbed  of  a  packet 
of  twenty-two  letters,  "  which,  at  first  sight,  appeared  to 
be  love-letters,"  and  a  pair  of  diamond  shoe-buckles  of 
the  value  of  six  louis. 

This  outrage  was,  of  course,  made  the  subject  of  a 
complaint  by  its  victim,  of  which  the  aforegoing  account 
is  a  summary.  But,  as  Saint-Huberty  had  really  had 
legal  authority  for  his  proceedings,  having  had  the 
audacity  to  declare  to  the  police  that  his  wife  had 
"  secretly  quitted  their  common  abode  and  carried  away 
with  her  numerous  effects  belonging  to  him,"  no  steps 
could  be  taken  against  him.  When,  however,  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  threatened  to  retire  from  the  Opera, 
"  unless  her  personal  safety  were  guaranteed,"  she  received 
an  assurance  that  she  need  no  longer  fear  the  visits  and 
assaults  of  her  husband. 

But,  if  the  unhappy  woman  had  contrived  to  secure 
herself  against  personal  molestation,  she  was  not  yet 
free  from  trouble  of  another  kind.  Some  weeks 
before  the  adventure  which  we  have  just  related, 
she  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  from  Saint-Huberty,  in 
return,  we  may  be  sure,  for  some  pecuniary  consideration, 
a  formal  renunciation  of  all  claim  to  her  professional 
earnings,  whether    derived    from    the   Opera    or    from 


28o  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

engagements  at  private  concerts  or  other  entertainments. 
By  the  law,  however,  she  still  remained  answerable  for 
his  debts,  and  the  cunning  scoundrel  now  determined 
to  obtain  the  money  he  required  through  the  claims 
of  fictitious  creditors.  On  the  demand  of  a  certain 
demoiselle  Guerin,  who  declared  herself  to  be  a  creditor 
for  the  sum  of  489  francs  against  the  sieur  Saint-Huberty 
and  his  wife,  a  formal  objection  was  lodged  to  the  pay- 
ment of  the  dame  Saint-Huberty's  salary;  and,  on 
October  2,  1778,  the  Chatelet  declared  this  opposition 
good  and  valid,  and  made  an  order  for  the  directors  and 
treasurers  of  the  Opera  to  deliver  over  to  the  sieur  Saint- 
Huberty  all  sums  due  to  his  wife,  until  the  debt  should 
be  liquidated. 

Poor  Madame  Saint-Huberty  was  in  despair.  It  was 
in  vain  that  she  protested  that  she  knew  nothing  of  the 
demoiselle  Guerin,  and  had  never  been  called  upon  by 
her,  previous  to  the  legal  proceedings,  to  pay  any  debt. 
The  officials  of  the  Opera  assured  her  that  they  were 
powerless  in  the  matter.  Deeply  as  they  sympathised 
with  her,  they  could  pay  her  nothing,  until  she  had 
obtained  a  recession  of  the  order  of  the  court. 

This  she,  accordingly,  endeavoured  to  procure.  But 
the  machinery  of  the  law  worked  even  more  slowly  in 
those  days  than  at  the  present  time,  and  it  was  not  until 
March  19,  1779,  that  the  appeal  came  on  for  hearing 
before  the  Parliament  of  Paris.  Then,  at  last.  Fortune 
declared  itself  on  her  side  ;  for  the  judges,  carried  away 
apparently  by  the  eloquence  of  the  plaintiff's  advocate, 
Maitre  Mascassies,  who,  in  a  speech  of  several  hours' 
duration,  traced  the  history  of  the  stage  from  its  origin 
to  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  with  special 
reference  to  the  influence  of  the  fall  of  Constantinople 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  281 

on  the  "  Mysteries,"  and  the  relative  merits  of  the 
operas  of  Lulli  and  Rameau,  reversed  the  decision  of  the 
Chatelet,  ordered  the  authorities  of  the  Opera  to  hand 
over  to  the  singer  her  arrears  of  salary,  and  condemned 
Saint-Huberty  and  his  confederates  to  pay  all  the  costs 
of  the  proceedings. 

Madame  Saint-Huberty  followed  up  this  victory 
by  another  and  more  important  one.  Six  months  later, 
she  instituted  proceedings  for  a  formal  dissolution  of 
her  marriage  on  the  following  grounds  : 

(i)  Omission  of  the  publication  of  the  banns  in  the 
parish  of  the  father  and  mother  of  the  bride. 

(2)  Absence  of  the  cure  of  the  bride's  parish. 

(3)  The  fact  that  the  marriage  had  been  performed 
without  the  consent  of  the  bride's  parents. 

(4)  Rape  and  seduction,  which,  without  the  employ- 
ment of  force,  but  merely  "  far  mauvaises  voyes  et 
mauvaises  artifices,''''  were  held  to  be  sufficient  to  invali- 
date a  marriage. 

The  action  was  supported  by  Saint-Huberty's  father, 
the  Metz  merchant,  an  honest  man,  who  appears  to 
have  been  genuinely  distressed  by  the  misery  which  his 
son  had  brought  upon  this  unfortunate  girl  ;  and, 
the  husband  himself  having  been  induced  to  leave  the 
matter  to  "  the  wisdom  of  the  court,"  on  January  30, 
1781,  the  marriage  was  finally  annulled.^ 


Meanwhile,  undeterred  by  her  domestic  troubles — 
troubles  which  might  well  have  ruined  the  career  of  a 
less  resolute  and  less  courageous  woman — Madame 
Saint-Huberty  had  been  steadily  working  her  way  into 

^  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  P-  42. 


282  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  very  front  rank  of  her  profession.  Without  friends, 
without  a  protector,  but  proud  in  her  distress  and  sus- 
tained by  an  all-devouring  ambition,  she  lived  alone  in 
her  humble  lodging,  which  she  never  left,  save  to  go  to 
the  theatre  for  rehearsals  and  performances.  "  From 
morning  till  night  she  worked,  studied,  practised  un- 
ceasingly. In  time,  her  voice  became  more  supple  and 
perfectly  under  her  control.  She  taught  herself  to 
move  her  long,  thin  arms  with  grace  ;  she  accustomed 
her  countenance  to  reflect  her  passionate  sensibility, 
to  render  her  lively  impressions.  Finally,  she  got  rid 
of  her  deplorable  Alsatian  accent."  ^ 

Recognition,  however,  was  slow  to  come.  In  1778, 
the  Mercure  only  mentions  her  as  singing  in  unimportant 
parts  in  three  or  four  operas,  although  she  appears  to 
have  greatly  pleased  the  musical  critic  of  that  journal 
by  her  rendering  of  an  Italian  arietta  of  Gluck,  at  a 
"  concert  sfirituel,''^  in  December.  During  the  whole 
of  the  following  year,  when  the  theatre  was  under  the 
direction  of  Devismes,  there  is  no  reference  to  her 
whatever,  except  in  a  letter  of  Devismes's  successor, 
Dauvergne,  in  which  he  speaks  of  the  young  singer  as 
weeping  with  despair,  because  she  had  not  been  allotted 
a  part ;  and  she  seems,  about  this  time,  to  have  had 
serious  thoughts  of  leaving  the  Opera  altogether.^ 
However,  her  perseverance  was  not  wasted,  for,  towards 
the  end  of  that  year,  she  was  received  as  a  permanent 
member  of  the  company,  though  less,  it  is  believed,  on 
account  of  her  talent,  than  her  willingness  to  do  whatever 
was  required  of  her.  This  was  a  great  step  gained,  and, 
at  length,  in  November  1780,  she  reaped  the  reward  of 

'  Emile  Gaboriau,  Les  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  210. 
^  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Madame  Saint-Huherty ,  p.  45. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  283 

all  her  labours  and  self-denial  by  being  entrusted  with  the 
part  of  Angelique  in  the  Roland  (Orlando)  of  Piccini. 

No  one  seems  to  have  expected  this  opera  to  succeed. 
The  composer  himself  believed  its  failure  inevitable. 
The  evening  of  the  first  representation,  when  he  was 
about  to  start  for  the  theatre,  his  family  refused  to  accom- 
pany him,  and,  aware  of  his  extremely  sensitive  nature 
used  every  persuasion  to  induce  him  to  remain  at  home. 
His  wife,  his  children,  his  friends  were  in  tears.  "  One 
would  have  imagined  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  the 
scaffold." 

Piccini  endeavoured  to  reassure  them.  "  My 
children,"  said  he,  "  we  are  not  in  the  midst  of  bar- 
barians, but  of  the  politest  people  in  the  world.  If  they 
do  not  approve  of  me  as  a  musician,  they  will  at  least 
respect  me  as  a  man  and  a  foreigner."  And  he  tore 
himself  away. 

A  delightful  surprise  awaited  him.  Roland,  so  far 
from  being  a  failure,  was  an  unqualified  triumph,  and,  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  performance,  Piccini  was  escorted 
home  by  an  enthusiastic  crowd  of  admirers.  This  happy 
result  was  undoubtedly  due,  in  the  first  instance,  to 
Madame  Saint-Huberty's  admirable  rendering  of  the 
part  of  Angelique.  "  Where  is  Saint-Hubcrty  ?  where 
is  she  ?  "  cried  the  grateful  composer,  as  the  curtain 
fell  to  the  accompaniment  of  round  upon  round  of 
applause.  "  I  wish  to  see  her,  to  embrace  her,  to  thank 
her,  to  tell  her  that  I  owe  to  her  my  success  !  " 

The  critic  of  the  Mercure  expresses  himself  as  follows 
on  the  acting  and  singing  of  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
in  this  her  first  important  part  : 

"  Having  spoken  of  Roland,  we  shall  seize  this  oppor- 
tunity  to    say   something   of    Madame    Saint-Huberty, 


284  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

whose  progress,  every  day  more  marked,  merits  a  special 
mention.  We  have  seen  her  with  pleasure  in  the  role 
of  Angelique,  in  which  she  has,  in  many  respects, 
acquitted  herself  very  well.  We  invite  her  only  to  be 
careful  of  her  articulation  ;  she  neglects  it  so  far  as  to 
cause  us  to  lose  part  of  what  she  says.  The  fault  is 
common  to  foreign  singers  or  to  those  trained  abroad." 

And  the  critic  concludes  by  recommending  her  to 
be  less  prodigal  of  her  gestures  and  not  to  raise  her  arms 
higher  than  was  necessary.^ 

A  month  later,  the  singer  gained  another  success, 
as  Lise,  in  Le  Seigneur  bienfaisant,  an  indifferent  work 
by  Rochon  de  Chabannes  and  Floquet,  when  she  rendered 
with  such  fiery  energy  the  despair  of  the  heroine  that 
she  fell  ill  from  excess  of  emotion  and  was  absent  from 
the  theatre  for  several  weeks. 

On  her  return,  fresh  triumphs  awaited  her.  After 
successfully  impersonating  Egle,  in  the  Thesee  of  Quinault, 
which  had  been  set  to  music  by  Gossec,  she  replaced 
Rosalie  Levasseur  in  the  name-part  in  Gluck's  Iphigenie 
en  T auride  (March  lo,  1782),^  in  which,  the  Mercure 
declares  that  "  she  acquitted  herself  very  well  and  deserved 
the  praise  which  she  received."  Next,  she  created  the 
role  of  Laurette,  in  VInconnue  fersecutee,  "with  as  much 
taste  as  intelligence,"  and  made  an  heroic,  though  un- 
successful, attempt  to  secure  a   favourable  reception  for 

'  This  multiplicity  and  exaggeration  of  gestures  appears  to  have 
been  Madame  Saint-Huberty's  principal  fault  in  the  early  part  of  her 
career.  On  another  occasion,  she  was  reproached  with  her  resemblance 
to  a  woman  "  persecuted  by  internal  convulsions." 

-  Rosalie  Levasseur  had  sung  charmingly  on  the  opening  night ; 
but  on  the  second,  she  was  so  intoxicated  as  to  be  almost  incapable 
of  struggling  through  the  part.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  performance 
she  was  arrested  and  conveyed  to  For  I'Evcque. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  285 

the   Electre  of  her   old   master   Lemoine,   the   one-time 
conductor  of  the  Strasburg  orchestra. 

Not  content  with  doing  her  utmost  on  the  stage 
on  her  old  friend's  behalf,  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
employed  the  influence  she  was  beginning  to  possess  in 
the  coulisses  to  compel  the  administration  of  the  Opera 
to  prolong  the  run  of  this  very  indifferent  work,  not- 
withstanding the  unfavourable  verdict  of  the  public 
and  the  disastrous  results  such  a  course  was  likely  to  have 
upon  the  receipts.  The  administration  resolved  not  to 
yield  to  such  a  preposterous  demand,  but,  at  the  same 
time,  unwilling  to  offend  an  actress  who  was  becoming 
every  day  more  necessary  to  them,  had  recourse  to 
stratagem.  They  represented  that  they  were  perfectly 
willing  to  oblige  Madame  Saint-Huberty  by  continuing 
the  representations  of  Electre  ;  but,  since  the  opera  was 
not  in  itself  a  sufficient  attraction  to  secure  a  full  house, 
it  would  be  advisable  to  wait  for  a  few  days,  until  the 
ever-popular  ballet  of  Ninette  a  la  Cour,  in  which  Mile. 
Guimard,  it  will  be  remembered,  secured  one  of  her 
greatest  triumphs,  could  be  given  with  it.  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  consented  to  the  postponement,  and  the 
administration  made  use  of  the  respite  granted  them 
to  induce  the  Minister  of  the  King's  Household,  the 
supreme  authority  in  matters  concerning  the  Opera, 
"  to  order  that  the  opera  of  Electre  should  be  absolutely 
withdrawn  from  the  theatre."  ^ 

In  those  days,  it  was  the  fashion  at  the  Opera  to 
frequently  present  entire  pieces  composed  of  acts 
extracted  from  various  works.  These  performances, 
called     "  Fragments,''^     were     very    popular     with     the 

^  Adolphe  Jullien,  UOpera  secret  au  XVllV  Steele :   Madame  Saint- 
Huberty. 


286  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

patrons  of  the  theatre,  since  they  constituted  but  little 
strain  upon  the  imagination,  while  the  variety  of  their 
subjects  and  music  provided  an  agreeable  change. 
On  September  24,  1782,  four  "  fragments  "  were 
performed  at  the  Opera,  the  most  important  of 
which  was  a  new  act  by  Moline  and  Edelmann,  entitled 
Ariane  dans  Vile  de  Naxos.  Madame  Saint-Huberty, 
who  played  the  part  of  Ariane,  had  always  had  a  strong 
predilection  in  favour  of  historical  accuracy  in  stage 
costume,  and,  on  the  advice  of  the  painter  Moreau, 
who  held  similar  views  and  had  designed  the  dresses  for 
this  opera,  she  resolved  to  make  a  move  in  the  direction 
of  reform, 

"  We  have  seen,  for  the  first  time,  on  the  stage," 
says  the  Journal  de  Paris^  "  in  the  principal  personage, 
the  costume  rigorously  observed.  These  designs  have 
been  made  on  the  advice  of  M.  Moreau  le  jeune,  favour- 
ably known  in  artistic  circles  by  the  number,  the  variety, 
and  the  continual  beauty  of  his  works." 

Levacher  de  Chamois,  in  his  work  on  theatrical 
costume,  has  traced  a  description  of  the  costume  worn 
by  Madame  Saint-Huberty  on  this  occasion  : 

"  One  saw  this  actress  appear  habited  in  a  long 
linen  tunic,  fastened  beneath  the  bosom ;  the  legs  bare 
and  fitted  with  the  ancient  buskin.  From  the  head 
descended  gracefully  several  plaits  of  hair,  which  played 
about  her  shoulders.  This  costume,  a  novel  one  for  the 
spectators  and  both  true  and  elegant,  was  applauded 
with  a  kind  of  frenzy.  But,  in  spite  of  the  approval 
of  the  public,  there  arrived  orders  which  one  called 
*  ministerial,'  forbidding  Madame  Saint-Huberty  to 
appear  in  this  beautiful  costume,  and  at  the  second 
representation  of  the  work  she  was  obliged  to  resume 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  287 

the  heavy  and  ridiculous  accoutrements  of  our  coquettes 
and  prudes."  ^ 

Notwithstanding  this  mortification,  the  actress  had 
no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  her  performance  of 
Ariane.  It  was  indeed,[>.for  her,  a  veritable  triumph. 
"  As  for  Madame  Saint-Huberty,"  says  the  Journal  de 
Paris,  "  we  do  not  know  which  serves  her  the  best,  her 
face,  her  voice,  or  her  acting  ;  she  knows  how  to  give 
to  each  song  inflections  which  occasion  the  most  lively 
emotions."  And  the  musical  critic  of  the  Mercure  writes  : 
"  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  in  the  opera  of  Ariane, 
has  added  yet  further  to  the  idea  that  one  has  always 
entertained  of  her  intelligence  and  her  talent.  She  played 
in  a  manner  always  animated  and  interesting,  and  sang 
with  the  greatest  expression  the  music  constantly  loud 
and  passionate  of  a  long  and  difficult  role." 

Guinguene,  in  his  notice  on  the  life  and  works  of 
Piccini,  declares  that  Madame  Saint-Huberty  owed 
to  the  protection  of  the  celebrated  composer  the  fact 
that  her  name  was  not  erased  from  the  books  of  the 
Opera  after  her  brilliant  rendering  of  the  part  of  Ariane, 
since  she  had  shown  on  this  occasion  views  too  indepen- 
dent and  a  talent  too  original  to  suit  the  views  of  the 
authorities  of  that  institution.  "  The  success  which 
she  had  obtained  in  it  excited  the  petty  passions  of  the 
coulisses.  They  were  prepared  to  drive  her  from  the 
Opera,  and  Piccini  alone  sustained  her.  He  recalled 
to  those  who  were  the  powers  of  the  State  the  witty 
and  sensible  mot  of  Gluck  ;  he  predicted  that  they  would 
speedily  have  need  of  her,  and  that  they  would  be  only 
too  happy  to  have  her.  His  selection  of  her  for  the 
^  Rechtrches  sur  Us  costumes  et  sur  les  theatres  de  toutes  les  nations, 
i-  35- 


288  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

interesting  part  of  Sangarede  and  the  superior  manner 
in  which  she  rendered  not  only  the  music,  but  the  scenes 
as  well,  moved  the  entire  public  in  her  favour  and  gave 
her  a  settled  position  on  the  stage  of  which  she  was 
for  ten  years  the  glory."  ^ 

The  revival  of  Atys  had  taken  place  at  the  beginning 
of  the  year  1783,  when  Madame  Saint-Huberty  played 
the  heroine  with  an  enthusiasm  which  gave  a  new  lease 
of  life  to  that  fine  opera.  "  Thus,"  says  M.  Jullien, 
"  she  found  herself  dividing  her  sympathies  between  the 
two  hostile  camps,  and  lending,  in  turn,  the  assistance 
of  her  great  talent  to  the  two  rival  composers  :  to  Gluck, 
who  had  given  her  her  first  opportunity  at  the  Opera, 
to  Piccini,  who  had  helped  her  to  retam  her  position 
there."  2 

A  little  time  before,  on  November  27,  1782,  the  actress 
had  given  proof  of  a  talent  of  rare  versatility  by  render- 
ing with  much  gaiety  and  charm  the  part  of  Rosette, 
in  Gretry's  VEmbarras  des  Richesses.^  This  piece,  not- 
withstanding some  delightful  music  and  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty's  successful  impersonation  of  the  heroine, 
failed,  mainly  through  the  ineptitude  of  the  libretto — 
the  production  of  one  Lourdet  de  Sans-Terre,  surnamed 
by  the  wits  Lourdeau  Sans-Tete — which  contained  some 
of  the  most  amazing  anachronisms  ever  perpetrated  by 
a  presumably  educated  writer.  Thus,  the  inhabitants 
of  Athens,  in    the    time  of    Pericles,  are  made    to    fast 

*  Ginguene,  Notice  sur  la  vie  et  les  ouvrages  de  Nicolas  Piccini. 

'  UOfera  secret  au  XVIIP  siecle  :   Madame  Saint-Huberty. 

'  "Madame  Saint-Huberty  played  the  part  of  Rosette  with  an 
intelligence,  a  sensibility,  and  a  fervour  of  expression,  which  proves 
the  extent  and  the  variety  of  her  talent,  equally  well  calculated  to 
render  every  r61e  and  to  sing  all  kinds  of  music." — Mercurc  de  France, 
December  1782. 


.1  r.ir,'.-  .■/,.■!     I'Jii.uK.s  .-I  Ua|>;llv, /■».•  •^''J.tt;iiuv.\il.iyiffe.J{C^-,utartc<\<',A.PD.R, 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY 
From  an  engraving  by  Colinet  after  the  drawing  by  Le  Moink 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  289 

during  Lent,  flirt  with  opera-girls,  and  pay  their  debts 
in  louis  d'or  ;  while,  in  the  ballet,  dances  are  executed 
by  American  savages  !  Bad  though  it  was,  however, 
VEmharras  des  Richesses  is  still  remembered,  having  been 
rescued  from  well-merited  oblivion  by  the  following 
amusing  epigram  : 

"  Embarras  d'intiret, 
Embarras  dans  les  roles, 
Embarras  dans  ballet, 
Embarras  de  paroles, 
Des  embarras  en  sorte 
Que  tout  est  embarras, 
Mais  venez  h.  la  porte, 
Vous  n'en  trouverez  pas." 

On  February  28,  1783,  Sacchini's  Renaud  was 
produced,  with  Rosalie  Levasseur  in  the  part  of  Armide. 
Her  rendering  of  the  part,  however,  was  not  considered 
satisfactory,  and,  at  the  fourth  representation,  she  was 
replaced  by  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  who  was  thus 
enabled  to  set  the  seal  upon  her  reputation.  For 
where  Rosalie  had  been  found  wanting,  she  succeeded 
and  succeeded  brilliantly,  and,  by  her  conversion  of  a 
threatened  failure  into  a  complete  triumph,  saved  at 
one  stroke  the  poor  musician  and  the  honour  of  the 
Opera,  which,  in  cancelling  its  agreement  with  Sacchini 
— about  which  there  had  been  some  talk  after  the  cool 
manner  in  which  Renaud  had  been  at  first  received 
— would  have  lost  the  composer's  two  masterpieces, 
Dardanus  and  (Edi-pe  a  Colone} 

Madame   Saint-Huberty  was   not   a   pretty   woman. 

^  Adolphc  ]\x\Y\cn,  U Opera  secret  au  XV IIP  Steele :  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty. 

T 


290  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

She  had  neither  the  beautiful  eyes  nor  the  willowy  grace 
of  Sophie  Arnould.  She  was  short  and  thick-set,  with 
long,  thin  arms,  a  large  mouth  and  a  "  nez  de  soubrette  "  ; 
in  a  word,  an  "  ignoble  figure,"  as  the  ungallant  art 
critic  of  the  Memoires  secrets  calls  her,  in  his  notice  of 
Madame  Vallayer  Coster's  portrait  of  the  actress,  as 
Dido,  exhibited  at  the  Salon  of  1785. 

But  it  was  quite  another  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
who  appeared  on  the  boards  of  the  Opera.  "  That 
metamorphosis,  that  transformation  on  the  stage,  which 
some  actresses  obtain  in  a  fashion  so  marvellous,  the  Saint- 
Huberty  pushed  beyond  the  bounds  of  imagination, 
thanks  to  incredible  labours,  thanks  to  victories  achieved 
every  day  over  her  unpleasing  person,  thanks  to  acqui- 
sitions apparently  impossible,  thanks  to  a  remarkable 
intelligence,  thanks  to  a  very  wide  knowledge  of  the 
theatre  and  all  its  effects,  thanks  to  a  profound  study 
of  the  characters  she  represented,  whose  sentiments 
and  emotions  of  the  soul  she  rendered,  so  to  speak,  '  in 
a  palpable  manner,'  thanks,  finally,  to  what  her  talent 
possessed  of  her  heart  and  of  the  passion  which  dwelt 
in  her.  And  she  succeeded  in  effecting  a  well-nigh 
physical  transformation  ;  in  giving  to  her  figure  nobility, 
elegance  ;  in  moving  with  gestures  of  pride  or  of  touching 
grace.  And  she  appeared  seductive  and  desirable  to  the 
amorous  eyes  of  the  audience."  ^ 

The  great  services  which  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
had  already  rendered  to  the  Opera,  and  the  wonderful 
talent  which  she  had  displayed  in  the  various  difficult 
roles  entrusted  to  her,  made  the  administration  keenly 
alive  to  the  importance  of  definitely  attaching  to  the 
'  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  p.  5. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  291 

theatre  an  artiste  of  such  exceptional  abihty,  whose 
value  to  them  was  immensely  enhanced  by  the  approach- 
ing retirement  of  Mile.  Laguerre  and  the  decline  of 
Rosalie  Levasseur.  During  the  year  1782,  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  had  only  received  5500  livres,  a  very 
inadequate  remuneration  for  the  attraction  which  she 
exercised  over  the  public  ;  and,  fully  aware  of  her  own 
value,  she  had  been  at  no  pains  to  conceal  her  dissatisfac- 
tion. On  November  22,  1782,  La  Ferte,  the  Intendant 
des  Menus,  wrote  to  Amelot,  the  Minister  of  the  King's 
Household,  pointing  out  the  importance  of  having  the 
matter  settled  without  delay.  "  She  (Madame  Saint- 
Huberty)  is  a  very  troublesome  person,"  he  says  ;  "  but 
we  cannot  dispense  with  her,  in  view  of  the  indifferent 
services  and  the  unwillingness  of  the  demoiselle  Levas- 
seur. All  that  we  can  hope  for  is  that  the  dame  Saint- 
Huberty  will  make  the  conditions  as  little  onerous  as 
possible,  and  I  suppose  there  will  be  no  hesitation  in 
according  her  the  Court  pension  of  1500  livres  destined 
at  first  for  the  demoiselle  Laguerre." 

After  some  further  correspondence  on  the  subject, 
the  prima  donna  was  invited  to  formulate  her  demands. 
They  were  as  follows  : 

(i)   3000  livres  ordinary  salary. 

(2)  Payment  of  firing,  lights,  and  so  forth. 

(3)  An  annual  gratification  extraordinaire  of  3000  livres. 

(4)  A  pension  of  1500  livres  on  the  musical  establish- 
ment of  the  King. 

(5)  A  conge  of  two  months  every  year,  including  the 
Easter  recess.  This  was,  of  course,  to  enable  her  to 
"  star  "  in  the  provinces. 

(6)  None  of  her  roles  to  be  entrusted  to  any  other 
actress,  save  at  her  own  request. 


292  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

La  Ferte  agreed  readily  enough  to  four  of  these 
proposals ;  indeed,  the  first  two  had  already  been  accorded, 
while,  as  we  have  just  seen,  he  himself  had  recommended 
the  granting  of  the  fourth.  But  he  annotated  the 
third  :  "  To  promise  it  when  circumstances  permit  "  ; 
and  he  declared  the  sixth  "  impossible,  as  being  contrary 
to  the  regulations." 

Madame  Saint-Huberty's  reply  was  to  temporarily 
retire  from  the  Opera,  on  the  plea  of  ill-health,  and  to 
announce  that  she  contemplated  leaving  the  stage 
altogether. 

Then  La  Ferte  submitted  to  Amelot  an  arrangement 
whereby  the  sum  of  8000  livres  a  year  was  assured  to  the 
singer,  independently  of  allowances  for  firing,  lights, 
and  so  forth,  and  of  a  pension  of  1500  livres  on  the  musical 
establishment  of  the  King,  which  would  give  her  an 
annual  income  of  9500  livres.  She  was  also  to  be  per- 
mitted to  give  two  private  concerts  every  year,  the 
expenses  to  be  borne  by  the  administration  of  the 
Opera.  These,  it  was  calculated,  would  bring  her  another 
3000  livres.  Finally,  she  was  to  be  granted  the  conge 
she  demanded,  on  condition  that  she  should  not 
take  it  at  a  time  when  her  services  were  particularly 
necessary  to  the  Opera  or  during  the  visit  of  the  Court 
to  Fontainebleau. 

On  February  27,  1783,  the  Minister  wrote  to  Madame 
Saint-Huberty,  to  inform  her  of  these  proposals,  as 
follows  : 

"  Rendering  to  your  talents  and  your  zeal.  Made- 
moiselle, all  the  justice  that  they  deserve,  I  afforded 
myself  the  pleasure  to  give  an  account  of  them  to  his 
Majesty,  who,  in  consequence,  has  willingly  consented 
to  authorise  me  to  announce  to  you  that  he  has  placed 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  293 

you  on  his  musical  establishment  for  the  sum  of  1500 

francs,  to  begin  from  January  i,  1782,  which  gives  you 

the  benefit  of  a  year  in  advance.     Secondly,  to  complete 

by  a  gratificatio7i  an  annual  salary  of  8000  francs  at  the 

Opera  ;    that  is  to  say  that,  supposing  your  place  of  first 

subject  should  only  produce,  for  example,  7000  francs, 

then  the  Court  would  give  you  1000  francs  to  make  up 

the  8000  francs.     You  will  also  be  accorded  every  year 

a  conge  of  two  months.     Finally,  his  Majesty  consents 

to  your  giving  every  year,  if  that  be  agreeable  to  you, 

two    concerts    for    your    own    benefit.     His    Majesty's 

intention  is  that  *  these  particular  favours'  should  remain 

entirely  secret.'     I  am  very  pleased  at  having  been  able 

to  contribute    towards   securing    them   for    you.      You 

will  kindly  advise   me  promptly  of  the  receipt  of  this 

letter." 

To  this  letter  Madame  Saint-Huberty  vouchsafed 
no  reply ;  and,  after  waiting  until  the  middle  of  March, 
the  Minister  wrote  again  : 

"  The   King   inquired   this   morning.   Mademoiselle, 
what    reply   you    had    made    to    the    letter    which    he 
authorised  me  to  write  to  you.     His  Majesty  was  not 
a  little  surprised  when  I  informed  him  that  I  had  not 
yet  received  it.      He  charges  me  to  demand  of  you  a 
positive  reply  as  promptly  as  possible.     I  do  not  doubt 
that  it  will  be  such  as  the  King  has  the  right  to  expect." 
But  this  letter,  like  the  first,  remained  unacknowledged. 
In  the  face  of  the  obstinate  silence  of  the  actress, 
supported  by  public  opinion,  which  now  began  to  declare 
itself  in  her  favour,  the  Minister's  position  became  so 
embarrassing    that    La    Ferte    counselled   him,    on    the 
occasion  of  a  concert  given  at  his  hotel,  in  which  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  was  to  take  part,  to  have  recourse  to  the 


294  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

following  little  stratagem.  He  advised  Amelot  to  speak 
privately  to  the  singer  before  the  concert  began,  and,  in 
the  event  of  his  failing  to  obtain  a  satisfactory  reply, 
all  the  Minister's  personal  friends,  by  previous  arrange- 
ment, should  demand  of  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  after 
she  had  concluded  her  song,  whether  she  had  definitely 
decided  to  remain  at  the  Opera,  and  that  Amelot  should 
then  announce  that  he  had  done  everything  in  his  power 
to  retain  her  services.  The  luckless  Intendant  des 
Menus  saw  in  this  species  of  public  explanation  the  only 
way  of  giving  the  lie  to  the  report  spread  everywhere  by 
the  actress  that  she  was  leaving  the  Opera,  because  she 
found  it  impossible  to  obtain  adequate  remuneration. 

Finally,  on  March  20,  1783,  the  Minister,  the  In- 
tendant, and  the  administration  of  the  Opera  were  forced 
to  capitulate  and  to  submit  to  all  the  conditions  imposed 
by  the  singer,  stipulating  only  that  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  should  maintain  the  strictest  secrecy  concerning 
the  matter,  lest  the  jealousy  of  her  colleagues  might  lead 
them  also  to  demand  higher  salaries,  and  that  she  should 
engage  to  remain  at  the  Opera  for  eight  years. -^ 

And  at  the  bottom  of  the  letter  in  which  Amelot 
announced  their  surrender,  the  triumphant  prima  donna 
wrote  as  follows  : 


« 


In  conformity  with  the  arrangements  made  in  this 
letter,  I  engage  myself  to  remain  at  the  Opera  for  the 
space  of  eight  years,  to  begin  from  the  first  of  January, 
1784. 

"  (Signed)  De  Saint-Huberty. 

Executed  this  22  March  1 78 3. 

*  Edmond    de    Goncourt,    Madame    Saint-Huberty,   p.    75    et    seq. 
Adolphe  Jullien,  VOpera  secret  au  XV IIP  siecle  :  Madame  Saint-Huberty. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  295 

Eight  months  after  her  victory  over  the  authorities 
of  the  Academie  Royale  de  Musique,  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  reached  the  apogee  of  her  fame  by  her  im- 
personation of  Dido,  in  Piccini's  celebrated  opera  of  that 
name. 

When  he  had  accepted  the  engagement  which  the 
Baron  de  Breteuil,  the  French  Ambassador  at  Naples, 
had  offered  him,  Piccini  had  fondly  imagined  that  he 
would  find  a  position  at  once  honourable  and  tranquil. 
He  came  to  Paris,  and  had  no  sooner  arrived,  than  he 
perceived  that  those  who  had  summoned  him  thither 
had  been  prompted  by  no  other  motive  than  that  of 
pitting  him  against  the  composer  who  was  then  revolu- 
tionising the  French  lyric  stage.  The  poor  musician 
was  naturally  much  troubled  by  this  discovery,  but  all 
arrangements  were  concluded,  and  he  had  no  option  but 
to  accept  the  situation. 

Naturally  amiable  and  modest,  Piccini  was  the  last 
man  in  the  world  to  engage  of  his  own  free  will  in  this 
miserable  war,  which  would  doubtless  have  speedily 
ceased,  had  it  not  been  for  the  conduct  of  the  philosophers 
and  men  of  letters,  many  of  whom  knew  scarcely  any- 
thing of  music  and  cared  even  less,  but  who,  infected  by 
the  mania  for  disputation  so  prevalent  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  rushed  into  the  contest  with  a  violence  as 
ridiculous  as  it  was  disastrous  to  the  interests  of  Art,  and 
envenomed  it  by  their  epigrams  and  recriminations.^ 
That  the  labours  of  Piccini  were  adversely  effected  by 
the  false  position  in  which  he  found  himself  there  can 
be  little  doubt,  and  his  success,  under  such  circumstances, 
is,  therefore,  all  the  more  deserving  of  admiration. 

'  Adolphe  JuUien,  L'Opera  secret  au  XVIII'  Steele:  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty. 


296  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Roland  and  Atys  had  succeeded,  in  spite  of  the  efforts 
of  the  Gluckists,  who  had  combated  their  success  by 
every  means  in  their  power ;  but  Iphigenie  en  Tauride 
failed.  The  struggle  was  unequal  :  Piccini,  though 
capable  of  contending  with  Gluck,  was  unable  to  conquer 
him.  Mortified,  discouraged,  eager  only  for  rest  and 
tranquillity,  he  resolved  to  comp'ose  no  more,  but  he 
had  counted  without  his  librettist  and  faithful  ally, 
Marmontel.  The  Marechal  de  Duras,  Gentleman  of 
the  Chamber  in  waiting  that  year,  had  demanded  of 
Marmontel  an  entirely  new  opera,  to  be  played  before 
the  Court  during  its  annual  sojourn  at  Fontainebleau. 
Marmontel  replied  that  he  could  promise  nothing,  unless 
Piccini  would  consent  to  collaborate  with  him  again, 
and  suggested  that,  in  order  to  arouse  the  composer 
from  the  state  of  dejection  into  which  he  had  fallen, 
the  marshal  should  persuade  the  Queen  to  change  the 
annual  gratification  which  the  Italian  had  hitherto 
received  into  a  perpetual  pension.  And  this  the  marshal 
readily  promised  to  do. 

"  He  asked  for  and  obtained  it,"  continues  Marmontel, 
"  and  when  Piccini  went  with  me  to  thank  him  :  '  It 
is  to  the  Queen,'  said  he,  '  that  you  must  show  your 
gratitude,  by  composing  for  her  this  year  a  fine  opera.' 

"  '  I  do  not  ask  anything  better,'  said  Piccini,  as  he 
left  us,  '  but  what  opera  shall  it  be  ?  ' 

"  '  We  must  compose,'  said  I,  *  the  opera  of  Didon. 
I  have  long  been  revolving  the  plan  of  it.  But  I  fore- 
warn you  that  I  mean  to  unfold  my  ideas  at  length  ; 
that  you  will  have  long  scenes  to  set  to  music,  and  that 
in  these  scenes  I  shall  require  a  recitative  as  natural  as 
simple  repetitions.  Your  Italian  cadences  are  monoto- 
nous ;    the  accents  of  our  language  are  more  favourable 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  297 

and  better  supported.     I  beg  you  to  mark  it  down  in  the 
same  manner  as  I  repeat  it.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  he,  '  we  shall  see/ 

"  In  this  manner  we  formed  the  design  of  bestowing 
on  recitative  that  ease,  that  truth  of  expression  which 
was  so  favourable  to  the  performance  of  the  celebrated 
actress  for  whom  the  character  of  Dido  was  intended. 

"  The  time  was  short  :  I  wrote  the  poem  with  great 
rapidity,  and,  in  order  to  withdraw  Piccini  from  the 
distractions  of  Paris,  I  invited  him  to  come  and  compose 
with  me  in  my  country-house,  for  I  had  a  very  agreeable 
one,  where  we  lived  as  a  family  during  the  summer 
months.  On  his  arrival  there,  he  set  to  work,  and  when 
he  had  completed  his  task,  Saint-Huberty,  the  actress 
who  was  to  play  the  part  of  Didon,  was  invited  to  come 
and  dine  with  us.  She  sang  the  part,  at  night,  from 
beginning  to  end,  and  entered  into  the  spirit  of  it  so 
thoroughly  that  I  fancied  she  was  on  the  stage.  Piccini 
was  delighted."  ■•• 

At  the  moment  when  Marmontel  and  Piccini  judged 
it  advisable  to  put  Didon  into  rehearsal,  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  was  entitled  to  the  annual  conge  which  she  had 
stipulated  for  and  obtained  some  months  previously; 
and  she  had  made  arrangements  for  a  tour  in  Provence. 
She  took  her  part  with  her,  however,  telling  the  authors 
that  they  could  rehearse  the  opera  without  her,  as  they 
could  rely  upon  her  knowing  her  music  quite  thoroughly 
before  she  returned,  and  probably  before  any  one  else 
would  be  ready. 

The  rehearsals  began  at  Fontainebleau,  the  part  of 
the  heroine  being,  as  a  rule,  taken  by  a  chorus-singer, 
who,  without  attempting  to  sing  Madame  Saint-Hubcrty's 

^  Memoires  de  Marmontel  (edit.  1804),  iii.  224  et  scq. 


298  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

music  from  beginning  to  end,  read  the  part  and  did  her 
best  to  replace  the  prima  donna  in  the  concerted  pieces. 
On  two  or  three  occasions,  however,  Mile.  Maillard,  a 
young  actress,  for  whom  the  Intendant  La  Ferte  had 
a  very  pronounced  tendresse,  was  entrusted  with  the 
principal  role. 

The  real  Dido,  meanwhile,  was  making  a  high  success- 
ful tour  in  Provence,  where  she  was  everywhere  received 
with  enthusiasm.  At  Aix,  she  caught  such  a  severe  cold 
that  for  a  time  she  lost  her  voice,  but  had,  fortunately, 
fully  recovered  its  use  by  the  time  she  returned  to  Paris. 
"The  part  of  Didon,"  she  wrote  to  one  of  her  friends 
in  Provence,  "  having  been  composed  for  me,  for  my 
voice,  and  being  the  only  very  interesting  part  in  this 
piece,  it  will  be  impossible  to  give  it  anywhere  without 
me.  This  looks  like  conceit  on  my  part,  but  I  will  ex- 
plain the  matter  to  you.  The  part  of  Didon  is  all  acting. 
The  recitative  is  so  well  composed  that  it  is  impossible 


to  smg  It. 


"  An  immense  number  of  persons  had  attended  the 
early  rehearsals  of  Didon,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  one  of  Piccini's  worst  productions.  But 
Piccini  consoled  himself  by  saying  :  '  Wait  till  my  Didon 
comes  !  '  At  the  first  rehearsal,  which  took  place  with 
myself  in  the  part,  every  one  said  :  '  Ah  !  he  has  re- 
composed  the  greater  part  of  his  opera  !  '  And  yet 
only  four  days  had  elapsed  since  the  previous  rehearsal. 
Piccini  heard  it  and  remarked  :  '  No,  Messieurs,  I  have 
altered  nothing  in  the  part.  But  until  now  Didon  was 
being  played  without  Didon.'  " 

From  which  letter  it  will  be  gathered  that  undue 
modesty  was  not  one  of  Madame  Saint-Huberty's 
failings. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  299 

The  day  of  the  first  representation  drew  near.  The 
great  singer  resolved  to  carry  out  a  radical  change  in  her 
costume.  She  held,  as  Mile.  Clairon  had  held,  that  in 
order  to  faithfully  represent  the  personages  of  antiquity, 
it  was  absolutely  essential  to  investigate  their  manners 
and  their  characters,  and  to  ascertain  exactly  the  garments 
which  they  were  in  the  habit  of  wearing.^  She  regarded 
the  theatre  as  a  picture  which  cannot  hope  to  produce 
illusion,  save  by  the  fortunate  accord  of  all  its  elements, 
and  she  was  far  from  meeting  with  this  accord  in  tragedy, 
in  which  the  verse  transported  the  audience  to  Rome 
or  Sparta,  but  in  which  one  saw  appear  Greeks  wearing 
brocaded  robes,  with  turbans  on  their  heads,  and  Roman 
ladies  with  long  trains  borne  by  pages. ^ 

This  time  she  succeeded  better  than  in  Ariane,  and 
went  to  the  extreme  of  simplicity.  She  announced  that 
the  costume  she  proposed  to  adopt  was  an  exact  copy 
of  a  design  by  Moreau  le  jeune,  sent  from  Rome,  where 
the  artist  then  was.  The  tunic  was  of  linen,  the  buskins 
laced  on  the  bare  foot,  the  crown  encircled  by  a  veil, 
which  fell  down  her  back,  the  mantle  of  purple,  the  robe 
fastened  by  a  girdle  below  the  bosom. 

We  may  imagine  the  astonishment  of  the  committee 

'  See  the  author's  "  Queens  of  the  French  Stage "  (London  : 
Harpers';  New  York:  Scribners'.    1905),  p.  314  et  seq. 

'  The  train  of  an  ordinary  actress  was  held  by  a  page  dressed  in 
black  and  white,  but  actresses  representing  queens  were  entitled  to  two 
trains  and  two  pages,  who  followed  them  everywhere  they  went. 
"  Nothing  is  more  diverting,"  writes  a  critic  of  the  time,  "  than  the 
perpetual  movement  of  these  little  rascals,  who  have  to  run  after  the 
actress  when  she  is  rushing  up  and  down  the  stage  in  moments  of  great 
distress.  Their  activity  tlirows  them  into  a  state  of  perspiration,  whilst 
their  embarrassment  and  blunders  invariably  excite  laughter.  Thus  a 
farce  is  always  going  on,  which  agreeably  diverts  the  spectator  in  sad  or 
touching  situations." 


300  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

of  the  Opera,  of  La  Ferte,  and  of  Amelot,  when  Madame 
Saint-Huberty,  with  Moreau's  design  in  her  hand, 
insisted  that  a  costume  exactly  resembling  it  should  be 
forthwith  ordered  for  her.  "  She  thus  dared  to  patronise 
new  ideas  and  to  introduce  to  the  Opera  a  costume 
designed  by  this  reformer,  whom  they  believed  they  had 
conquered."  ^  All  the  authorities  were  up  in  arms 
against  these  exorbitant  pretensions,  but  the  actress's 
genius  had  rendered  her  all-powerful ;  her  wishes  could 
no  longer  be  ignored,  and  they  were  obliged  to  yield. 
But  every  day  the  lady  became  more  exacting  in  her 
demands,  and  poor  La  Ferte  was  driven  to  his  wits' 
end  to  satisfy  them.  "  I  have  just  ordered  Madame 
Saint-Huberty's  robe,"  he  writes  to  Amelot ;  "  but  it 
is  terrible  !  "  And  again  :  "  I  have  endeavoured  to 
satisfy  Madame  Saint-Huberty's  caprices  in  making  her 
decide  to  content  herself  with  some  changes  in  her  robe 
for  the  part  of  Didon  !  "  Unhappy  Intendant  !  The 
actress  was  now  indeed  taking  an  ample  revenge  for  the 
rebuff  she  had  sustained  in  Ariane. 

Didon  was  at  length  presented  on  October  i6,  1783. 
It  was  a  dazzling  triumph  for  both  composer  and  actress. 
Never  had  such  enthusiasm  been  witnessed  at  the  Court. 
Louis  XVL,  though,  as  a  rule,  he  did  not  care  for  opera, 
was  delighted  and  declared  that  "  this  opera  had  given 
him  as  much  pleasure  as  a  fine  tragedy."  To  mark  his 
satisfaction,  he  at  once  decided  that  a  pension  of  1500 
livres  should  be  bestowed  on  the  principal  actress,  and  sent 
the  Marechal  de  Duras  to  compliment  her  and  inform 
her  of  the  pleasure  she  had  afforded  him. 

'  Adolplic  JuUicn,  UOpera  secret  au  XVII P  Steele :  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  301 

"  This,"  writes  one  who  was  present,  "  was  the  finest 
scene  of  the  evening.  When  the  Marechal  de  Duras 
arrived  behind  the  scenes,  followed  by  a  crowd  of  courtiers 
in  gala  dress,  Madame  Saint-Huberty  had  not  yet  had 
time  to  change  her  costume.  She  was  standing  up,  the 
crown  on  her  head,  draped  in  the  purple  mantle  of  the 
Queen  of  Carthage.  Marmontel  and  Piccini,  intoxicated 
with  joy,  had  thrown  themselves  at  her  feet  and  were 
kissing  her  hands.  One  would  have  called  them  two 
criminals,  whose  lives  she  had  just  spared.  They  only 
rose  when  M.  de  Duras  approached  to  repeat  what  the 
King  had  said.  The  actress  listened  to  the  marshal, 
and  her  countenance,  still  animated  by  inspiration, 
became  illumined  with  the  joy  of  this  new  triumph. 
The  blush  of  pride  rose  to  her  forehead.  She  had  so 
much  grandeur,  nobility,  and  majesty  in  her  bearing, 
with  these  men  at  her  feet,  that  better  even  than  when 
upon  the  stage  she  conveyed  the  idea  of  the  Queen  of 
Carthage.  All  the  great  nobles  present  had  the  appear- 
ance of  being  only  her  courtiers." 

Metra  describes  this  scene  in  the  ironical  tone  cha- 
racteristic of  him.  He  represents  Piccini  precipitating 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  singer,  and  amorously  squeezing 
her  hand.  He  shows  us  Marmontel,  although  more 
slow  to  bend  the  knee,  employing  vows  and  the  most 
tender  expressions  to  assure  her  that  she  arouses  in  his 
heart  the  most  novel  and  the  most  lively  emotions. 
And  he  concludes  :  "  What  a  pleasing  contrast  to  picture 
to  oneself  in  this  scene  Saint-Huberty,  still  clothed  in 
the  purple  of  Didon,  receiving  with  dignity  the  incense 
of  great  noblemen  and  men  of  letters,  and  to  behold  her, 
as  a  voluptuary  of  the  time  found  her,  two  days  later, 
in  Paris,  playing  a  game  of  piquet  with  her  page,  at  the 


302  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

end  of  a   table  covered  with  a  coarse  and  dirty  dish- 
cloth !  " 

In  Paris,  the  opera  and  the  singer  obtained  an  even 
greater  triumph  than  at  Fontainebleau.  The  evening 
of  the  first  representation  (December  i,  1783)  was  "  an 
evening  of  transports  and  delirium."  The  public  could 
not  find  means  to  express  its  admiration.  At  the  con- 
clusion of  the  impressive  song, 

"  Ah  !  que  je  fus  bien  inspir^e," 
the  audience  rose  in  a  body  and  interrupted  the  perform- 
ance with  frenzied  applause.     At  the  touching  air, 

"  Ah  !  prends  pitie  de  ma  faiblesse," 
there  was  not,  we  are  assured,  a  dry  eye  in  the  whole 
house.  "  What  more  glorious  triumph,"  writes  one  of 
the  actress's  biographers,  "  could  this  poor  artiste 
in  her  days  of  toil  and  misery  have  ever  dreamed 
of  !  "  1 

Among  the  critics,  not  a  dissentient  voice  was  heard ; 
all  joined  in  a  chorus  of  praise  of  Didon  and  the  great 
lyric  tragedienne.  "  Madame  Saint-Huberty,"  wrote 
the  Memoires  secrets,  "  played  the  part  with  the  highest 
talent.  She  excelled  even  herself,  and  showed  herself 
not  less  a  great  actress  than  an  accomplished  singer." 
"  It  is  the  voice  of  Todi ;  it  is  the  acting  of  Clairon  !  " 
cries  Grimm.     "  It  is  a  model  which  has  not  been  seen 

'  On  December  6,  which  was  an  off-day  at  the  Opera,  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  attended  a  performance  of  the  Fausse  Lord,  music  by  Piccini, 
words  by  Piccini  fits,  at  the  Comedie-Italienne.  At  the  conclusion  of 
the  piece,  when  she  was  leaving  her  box,  the  whole  audience  rose,  and 
burst  into  a  tumult  of  applause,  shouting  :  "  Vive  la  reine  de  Carthage  !  " 
If,  remarks  Grimm,  the  public  had  been  aware  that,  on  that  very  day, 
by  the  exercise  of  rare  delicacy  and  tact,  the  artiste  had  succeeded  in 
reconciling  Piccini  and  Sacchini,  who  had  long  been  at  variance,  their 
enthusiasm  would  have  been,  if  it  were  possible,  even  greater. 


MADAME  SAINT-IIUBERTY  303 

on  the  stage  for  a  long  time,  and  will  not  soon  be  seen 
again." 

And  Guinguenc,  in  his  valuable  study  of  the  life 
and  works  of  Piccini,  writes :  "  The  talent  of  this  sublime 
actress  has  its  origin  in  her  extreme  sensibility.  An  air 
might  be  better  sung,  but  it  would  be  impossible  to  give 
to  any  air,  to  any  recitative,  a  truer,  more  passionate 
expression.  No  action  could  be  more  dramatic  than  hers, 
no  silence  more  eloquent.  One  still  recalls  her  terrible 
dumb-show,  her  tragic  immobility  ;  and  the  awful  ex- 
pression of  her  countenance  during  the  long  ritornello 
of  the  chorus  of  the  priests,  towards  the  end  of  the  third 
act,  and  while  the  chorus  is  being  sung. 

"  At  the  performance  she  did  no  more  than  replace 
herself  in  the  position  in  which  she  had  naturally  found 
herself  at  the  first  general  rehearsal.  Some  one  spoke 
to  her  of  the  impression  she  had  seemed  to  feel,  and  which 
she  communicated  to  the  whole  audience. 

"  '  I  really  experienced  it,'  she  answered.  ^  After 
the  tenth  bar,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  dead.'  ^ 

"  This  reply,"  remarks  Gaboriau,  "  reveals  the  whole 
secret  of  the  great  lyric  tragedienne'' s  talent.  An  actress 
of  genius,  she  knew  how  to  keep  her  head,  but  she  sur- 
rendered her  whole  heart,  her  whole  soul.  She  really 
suffered  the  grief  which  she  expressed  in  so  heartrending 
a  manner  ;  she  really  felt  as  if  she  were  dying.  And  to 
such  a  point  was  this  true  that,  after  each  performance, 
she  was  so  ill  and  exhausted  that  she  needed  several  hours 
to  recover  herself."  ^ 

It  has  been  said  that  Madame  Saint-Huberty  was  an 
infinitely   better   actress   than   she  was   a   singer.     This, 

^  Notice  sur  la  vie  ct  les  ouvrages  de  Nicolas  Piccini. 
^  Les  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  217. 


304  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

however,  was  certainly  not  the  case.  Castil-Blaize 
declares  her  to  have  been  the  first  vocalist  worthy  of 
the  name  who  appeared  at  the  French  Opera  ;  while  one 
of  her  biographers  points  out  that  Piccini  would  never 
have  composed  for  her  so  difficult  an  air  as  that  beginning  : 
"  Ah  !  que  je  fus  bien  inspiree,^^  had  he  not  known  her 
to  possess  a  cultivated  voice,  full  of  charm  and  expression. 

But  the  best  proof  that  she  really  could  lay  claim  to 
exceptional  vocal  as  well  as  dramatic  talent,  and  was 
not  merely  "  an  actress  who  spoke  song  " — to  borrow 
Gretry's  definition  of  Madame  Dugazon — is  the  success 
which  attended  her  appearance  at  the  "  Concerts  Spiri- 
tuels,"  where  she  took  her  place  beside  Mara  and  Todi, 
and  acquitted  herself  so  well  that  some  critics  went  so 
far  as  to  speak  of  her  as  a  formidable  rival  to  these  eminent 
singers. 

The  success  of  Didon  continued  unabated.  At 
each  performance,  Madame  Saint-Huberty  "  seemed  to 
add  something  to  the  purity  of  tone,  to  the  truth  of 
expression,  to  the  profundity  of  sensibility  which  she  had 
displayed  on  the  first  evening."  ^  At  each  performance 
a  fresh  ovation  awaited  her.  On  January  14,  1784,  at 
the  twelfth  representation  of  the  Opera,  she  wa«  the 
recipient  of  an  honour  which  up  to  that  time  was 
absolutely  without  precedent  in  France. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  second  act,"  writes  Grimm, 
"  which  terminated  with  the  pathetic  trio  between 
Enec,  Didon,  and  her  sister,  a  crown  of  laurel,  badly 
aimed,  fell  into  the  orchestra.  The  person  at  whose  feet 
it  fell  placed  it  on  the  edge  of  the  stage.  The  public, 
with  loud  cries,  demanded  that  it  should  be  placed  on 
Didon's  head,  which  was  done,  by  the  demoiselle  Gavau- 
^  Grimm,  Corrcspondance  Uttcrairc,  xii.  10. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  305 

dan,  to  the  accompaniment  of  unanimous  and  prolonged 
applause.  The  actress,  surprised  and  almost  overwhelmed 
with  confusion,  experienced  a  shock  so  great  that  it  was, 
for  the  moment,  feared  that  she  would  be  unable  to 
finish  her  part.  .  .  .  This  crown  of  laurel  was  tied  with 
a  white  ribbon  on  which  was  embroidered  these  words  : 
Didon  et  Saint-Huberty  sont  immortelles.'''*  ^ 

Apropos  of  this  coronation,  La  Ferte  wrote  to  Amelot: 
"  Another  trouble,  Monseigneur.  I  do  not  know 
whether  you  have  been  informed  that  on  Friday  evening 
last  a  crown,  bearing  the  inscription  '.  ^  A  la  immortelle 
Saint-Huberty\''  was  thrown  upon  the  stage.  The  actress 
who  was  playing  with  her  picked  it  up  and  placed  it  on 
Madame  Saint-Huberty's  head.  This  episode,  apparently 
the  result  of  an  arrangement  concerted  with  the  demoi- 
selle Saint-Huberty,  cannot  be  ignored  ;  for  those  who 
in  this  manner  give  crowns  (an  incident  hitherto  without 
example  in  the  theatre  in  connection  with  an  actor) 
might  equally  accustom  themselves  to  throw  baked 
apples  and  oranges,  as  happens  in  England,  at  an  actor 
who  does  not  meet  with  their  approbation.  The  con- 
fusion would  then  be  beyond  remedy  !  " 

The  Intendant  then  goes  on  to  say  that  the  honour 
paid  her  had  not  rendered  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
more  accommodating,  since  she  had  refused  to  play  on  the 
following  Tuesday,  and,  as  the  receipts  for  that  evening 
would  inevitably  show  a  great  decrease,  if  Didon  were 
not  performed,  he  suggests  that  the  prima  donna  should 
be  replaced  by  Mile.  Maillard,  whom,  as  we  have  men- 
tioned elsewhere,  M.  de  la  Ferte  honoured  with  his 
favours.  The  old  Intendant  must  have  been  very  much 
in  love  or  exceedingly  deaf,  for  he  actually  goes  so  far 

^  Grimm,  Correspondance  litteraire,  xii.  lo. 

U 


3o6  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

as  to  assure  Amelot  that  Mile.  Maillard's  voice  is  one 
which  may  well  excite  the  envy  of  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty. 

Mile.  Maillard  secured  the  appearance  she  coveted, 
though  Madame  Saint-Huberty  protested  vigorously 
against  her  being  allowed  to  play  the  part,  on  the  ground 
that  it  was  an  infringement  of  the  last  clause  of  the  agree- 
ment of  the  previous  March,  which  provided  that  no 
other  actress  should  be  allowed  to  play  any  part  which 
she  had  created,  save  at  her  own  suggestion.  But  the 
young  lady  must  have  regretted  her  misplaced  ambition, 
for  the  public,  learning  of  its  idol's  feeling  in  the  matter, 
accorded  her  anything  but  a  flattering  reception. 

The  acclamations  of  Court  and  capital  did  not  content 
Madame  Saint-Huberty ;  she  desired  the  applause  of 
the  whole  of  France,  and  she  received  it.  The  enthu- 
siasm of  the  provinces  indeed  reached  the  point  of 
absurdity ;  a  royal  progress  could  hardly  have  been 
more  splendid. 

At  Marseilles,  the  first  city  of  importance  which  she 
visited,  and  where  she  gave  no  less  than  twenty-three 
representations,  it  was  resolved  to  organise  a  magnificent 
f^te  in  her  honour.  Cannon  thundered  salutes,  the  vessels 
in  the  harbour  were  decorated  with  flags,  and,  in  the 
evening,  the  entire  city  was  illuminated.  An  eight- 
oared  gondola,  lined  throughout  with  satin  and  furnished 
with  velvet  cushions,  had  been  prepared  for  the  occasion, 
in  which  the  prima  donna  embarked,  arrayed  in  a  Greek 
costume  of  the  most  extravagant  richness,  the  gift  of 
the  ladies  of  Marseilles.  The  gondola  was  then  rowed 
out  to  sea,  escorted  by  more  than  one  hundred  vessels 
of    various   kinds,   including   several   barges    filled   with 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  307 

musicians.  Aquatic  sports  were  held,  the  victors  in 
which  had  the  felicity  of  being  crowned  by  the  heroine 
of  the  day. 

On  her  return  to  land,  the  cannon  again  fired  salutes ; 
the  whole  population  had  flocked  to  the  quays.  The 
diva  was  conducted,  through  an  avenue  of  illuminated 
pavilions,  to  a  pleasure-house,  where  she  rested  for  a 
while  in  a  salon  of  verdure  lighted  by  coloured  lanterns. 
Then  she  entered  a  tent,  in  which  a  temporary  theatre 
had  been  constructed,  where  an  allegorical  play  was 
performed  in  her  honour,  and  Apollo  crowned  her  with 
laurel  as  the  "  tenth  "  Muse.  A  ball  followed,  during 
which  Madame  Saint-Huberty  occupied  a  seat  on  a  dais 
between  Melpomene  and  Thalia.  Finally,  a  splendid 
supper,  to  which  sixty  of  the  principal  inhabitants  of 
Marseilles  sat  down,  was  served  in  a  room  protected  by 
a  wooden  grill,  to  guard  the  idol  against  the  too-pressing 
attentions  of  her  worshippers.  At  dessert,  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  sang  several  couplets  in  the  Provencal 
patois,  the  people  joining  in  the  chorus.  The  enthu- 
siasm of  the  city  on  this  memorable  night  was  indescrib- 
able, and  spread  far  into  the  country. 

When,  at  length,  the  prima  donna  contrived  to  tear 
herself  away  from  her  admirers  at  Marseilles,  an  extra 
horse  had  to  be  harnessed  to  her  post-chaise,  to  draw 
the  trophies  of  her  twenty-three  performances,  which 
included  more  than  a  hundred  crowns. 

At  Toulouse,  if  the  f^tes  were  less  splendid,  there  was 
no  diminution  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  public.  In  the 
third  act  of  Didon^  the  performance  was  suddenly  stopped, 
while  twelve  young  girls,  dressed  in  white,  advanced 
towards  Madame  Saint-Huberty.  They  carried  a  basket 
of  flowers  surmounted  by  a  crown,  which  their  leader 


3o8  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

begged  the  singer  to  accept,  as  "  the  tribute  of  a  grateful 
country." 

At  Strasburg — her  birthplace  and  the  town  where 
she  had  made  her  first  appearance  on  the  stage — which 
she  visited  in  the  summer  of  1787,  the  ovations  continued. 
There,  amongst  a  thousand  other  compliments  in  verse, 
of  various  degrees  of  merit,  she  received  the  following 
gallant  madrigal  : 

"  Remains  qui  vous  vantez  d*une  illustre  origine, 
Voyez  d'ou  d^pendait  vot,re  empire  naissant : 

Didon  n'eut  pas  de  charme  assez  puissant 
Pour  arrdter  la  fuite  ou  son  amant  s'obstine  ; 
Mais  si  I'autre  Didon,  ornement  de  ces  lieux, 

EAt  6td  reine  de  Carthage, 
II  eAt,  pour  la  servir,  abandonn^  ses  dieux, 
Et  votre  beau  pays  serait  encor  sauvage." 

These  verses  have  been  ascribed  by  Edmond  de 
Goncourt,  Gaboriau,  and  several  other  writers  to  no  less 
a  personage  than  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  then  a  young 
officer  of  artillery.  But  they  are  in  error,  for  M.  Adolphe 
JuUien,  who  has  carefully  investigated  the  matter,  points 
out  that  Napoleon  passed  the  whole  of  the  year  1787 
not  at  Strasburg,  but  in  Corsica. 

Space  forbids  us  to  give  more  than  a  very  brief  account 
of  the  remaining  triumphs  of  this  truly  great  artiste, 
who,  no  matter  how  unfavourable  the  verdict  of  the 
public  and  the  critics  might  be  in  regard  to  some  of  the 
works  in  which  she  appeared,  was  always  herself  assured 
of  applause  and  commendation.  In  the  title-part  of 
the  Chimene  of  Sacchini,  as  Delie,  in  the  Tibulle  et  Delie 
of  Fuzelier  and  Mile,  de  Beaumesnil,  as  Hypermnestre, 
in  that  superb  opera  of  the  DandideSy  which  made  the 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  309 

name  of  Salicri  worthy  to  rank  with  those  of  Gluck, 
Piccini,  and  Sacchini,  she  astonished  and  delighted  the 
musical  world  scarcely  less  than  she  had  in  Piccini's 
masterpiece.  And  such  was  her  passionate  love  of  her 
art  and  her  amazing  capacity  for  hard  work  that  all 
these  four  most  difhcult  and  most  varied  roles — Didon, 
Chimene,  Delie,  and  Hypermnestre,  of  which  three  at 
least  are  among  the  most  beautiful  figures  to  which  the 
lyric  art  has  lent  life — were  studied,  mastered,  and  repre- 
sented within  the  space  of  some  seven  months  :  from 
October  16,  1783  to  April  26,  1784.^ 

Two  years  after  the  great  success  of  their  Didon, 
Marmontel  and  Piccini  reappeared  on  the  stage  of  the 
Opera  with  Penelope.  Unfortunately,  the  vogue  which 
the  preceding  work  had  obtained  had  aroused  too  many 
expectations  in  regard  to  this  new  essay — author  and 
composer,  so  to  speak,  were  the  victims  of  their  own 
excellence — and  though  Penelo-pe  was,  in  its  way,  a  fine 
opera,  it  was  received  in  comparative  silence.  All  the 
critics,  however,  were  agreed  that  Madame  Saint-Huberty, 
in  the  part  of  the  virtuous  wife  of  Ulysses,  was  superb, 
and  that  she  had  seldom  been  heard  to  more  advantage 
than  in  the  two  airs  :  "  Je  le  vols,  cette  ombre  errante^'' 
and  "  //  est  affreux,  il  est  horrible,''''  and  in  the  scene 
where  Telemachus  comes  to  announce  the  return  of  her 
husband. 

It  was  Madame  Saint-Huberty  again  who,  in  May, 
1786,  rescued  from  complete  disaster  the  Themistocle 
of   Philidor,  which,  after  a  tolerably  good  reception  by 

^  Adolphe  JuUien,  VOpera  secret  au  XVIIT  Steele :  Madame 
Saint-Huberty.  M.  JuUicn  says  "in  less  than  five  months."  He  for- 
gets that  Didon,  although  not  seen  at  the  Opera  until  December  i, 
1783,  had  been  performed  at  Fontaiucbleau  in  the  previous  October. 


3IO  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

the  Court,  had  been  greeted,  at  first,  by  the  town  with 
marked  disfavour ;  and  it  was  not  one  of  her  least  successes 
to  have  invested  with  Hfe  the  inanimate  figure  of  the 
heroine,  Mandane. 

In  November  of  the  same  year,  the  singer  was  able 
to  discharge  the  debt  of  gratitude  which  she  owed  to 
her  first  master,  Lemoine.  Lemoine,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered had,  some  years  before,  produced  an  Electre,  which 
had  failed,  in  spite  of  the  heroic  efforts  of  his  former 
pupil.  Now,  however,  he  had  composed  a  far  more 
important  work  on  the  subject  of  Phaedra,  from  which 
he  expected  great  things ;  and  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
exerted  all  her  influence  to  secure  it  precedence  over 
the  (Edi-pe  of  Sacchini,  who  was  also  impatiently  awaiting 
his  turn. 

Unhappily,  she  succeeded.  Sacchini  had  the  Queen's 
promise  that  his  work  should  be  the  first  to  be  performed 
before  the  Court,  at  Fontainebleau  ;  but  one  day  Marie 
Antoinette  approached  him,  and  said,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  :  "  M.  Sacchini ;  it  is  said  that  I  show  too  much 
favour  to  foreigners.  I  have  been  so  earnestly  solicited 
to  allow  the  Phedre  of  M.  Lemoine  to  be  performed,  in 
place  of  your  (Edi-pe,  that  I  could  not  refuse.  You  see 
my  position  ;    forgive  me." 

The  poor  Italian  was  so  bitterly  disappointed  at  the 
indefinite  postponement  of  the  work,  upon  which  he 
had  based  so  many  hopes,  that  he  fell  ill  that  same  evening 
and  died,  three  months  later,  without  having  been  able 
to  assist  at  the  production  of  the  masterpiece  which  was 
to  render  his  name  immortal.^ 

Lemoine's  Phhdre,  the  precedence  for  which  had  been 

^  Adolphe  JuUien,  V  Opera    secret  au  XV I IV  Steele  :  Madame  Saint- 
Uuberty. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  311 

so  dearly  purchased,  was  coldly  received  by  the  Court, 
and  still  more  coldly  by  the  town ;  and  it  was  in  vain 
that  Madame  Saint-Huberty  called  to  her  aid  all  her 
genius  to  save  the  work  of  her  old  master.  At  the  third 
performance  the  theatre  was  almost  empty.  Ultimately, 
however,  it  proved  a  success,  thanks  to  the  ingenious 
intervention  of  a  friend  of  the  composer. 

This  friend  was  Quidor,  the  police-inspector  who  had 
been  charged  with  the  pursuit  of  the  dancer  Nivelon.^ 
Quidor  had  under  his  professional  supervision  a  great 
number  of  ladies  of  easy  virtue,  whom  he  invited,  "  in 
a  manner  which  did  not  permit  of  any  refusal,"  to  attend 
and  to  make  their  friends  attend  the  performances  of 
Phedre.  The  theatre,  deserted  at  the  third  representa- 
tion, was  crammed  to  suffocation  at  the  fifth  ;  dazzling 
toilettes  appeared  in  all  the  boxes,  while  the  applause 
was  positively  deafening;  for  the  ingenious  inspector 
had  filled  the  pit  and  galleries  with  police  in  plain 
clothes,  with  orders  not  to  spare  their  hands  or  voices. 

This  strategy  was  attended  with  complete  success. 
The  performers  recovered  their  spirits,  which  had  been 
naturally  much  damped  by  having  to  sing  to  empty  boxes, 
and  rendered  full  justice  to  what  was  really  an  admirable 
work ;  at  the  tenth  representation  the  true  public  began 
to  arrive,  found  the  music  charming,  and  joined  heartily 
in  the  applause.^ 

The  character  of  Madame  Saint-Huberty  was  far 
less  agreeable  than  her  talent.  Dauvergne,  the  director 
of  the  Opera,  declared  that  she  was  the  most  abandoned 
woman  in  his  theatre — which  was  to  say  a  good  deal — 

^  See  p.  128  note,  supra. 

'  Memoires  secrets,  December  20,  1786. 


312  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

and,  in  a  letter  to  Amelot,  cited  by  Edmond  de  Gon- 
court,  in  his  monograph  on  the  actress,  charges  her  with 
the  most  revolting  vices — the  same  of  which  Sophie 
Arnould  and  Mile.  Raucourt  had  formerly  been  accused. 
Moreover,  she  was  insolent  and  exacting,  and  wearied  the 
administration  with  her  caprices  and  pretensions. 

"  She  is  a  great  musician,"  writes  La  Ferte,  in  1784? 
to  Amelot,  "  abounding  in  talent  and  essential  to  the 
Academy.  If  Nature  had  not  lavished  upon  her  all 
the  necessary  qualifications,  Art  would  have  created 
a  prodigy  in  her  favour.  This  artiste  is  too  well  aware 
that  she  is  necessary  to  the  Opera,  in  default  of  persons 
who  can  replace  her  with  advantage.  She  is  full  of 
pretensions  ;  she  has  intelligence,  but  a  bad  disposition. 
She  must  be  humoured,  but  not  spoilt,  otherwise  she 
will  make  herself,  so  to  speak,  the  sovereign  arbitrix  of 
the  Opera."  ^ 

During  a  visit  to  Lyons,  in  1785,  where  she  was 
received  with  the  same  enthusiasm  as  elsewhere  in  the 
provinces,  Madame  Saint-Huberty  conceived  a  violent 
fancy  for  the  local  tenor,  one  Saint-Aubin  by  name, 
who  took  the  part  of  Enee  in  Didon,  and  did  not  rest 
content  with  making  love  to  him  on  the  stage.  When 
her  conge  expired,  nothing  would  satisfy  her  but  that 
the  fascinating  tenor  should  follow  her  to  Paris,  and 
no  sooner  had  she  returned  to  the  capital  than  she 
persuaded  the  administration  to  engage  him  for  the 
Opera,  and  an  ordre  de  debut  was  accordingly  despatched 
to  Lyons : 

"  De  Par  Le  Rot  : 

"  The  sieur  Saint-Aubin,  tenor  of  the  Lyons  theatre, 

1  Cited   by    Campardon,   Acadcmie  royal    de  Mtisique  an  XV I W 
Steele-    Article,  "Saint-Huberty." 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  313 

is  directed  to  come  immediately  to  Paris,  to  make  his 
debut  on  the  stage  of  the  Opera. 

"  Executed  at  Paris,  etc." 

In  vain  did  the  management  of  tlie  Lyons  theatre 
represent  that  the  services  of  the  sieur  Saint-Aubin 
could  not  possibly  be  dispensed  with  ;  that  there  was  no 
one  to  replace  him  ;  that  he  had  anticipated  his  salary 
to  the  extent  of  3433  livres,  4  sols.  ;  that  the  theatre, 
already  in  a  bad  way  financially,  would  be  completely 
ruined  by  his  departure,  and  so  forth.  The  authorities 
in  Paris,  spurred  on  by  the  amorous  prima  donna,  were 
inexorable,  and  the  sieur  Saint-Aubin  had  to  obey. 
He  made  his  debut  on  December  9,  1785,  as  Atys,  in 
Piccini's  opera  of  that  name,  and  was  pronounced  by  the 
critics  a  tolerably  good  singer,  but  far  too  stout  for  a 
lover — at  least  on  the  stage. 

After  a  year  of  love  duets  with  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty,  the  passion  of  the  stout  tenor  began  to  cool. 
The  husband  awoke  in  him  ;  he  remembered  that  he 
had  left  at  Lyons  a  young  and  charming  wife  and  two 
pretty  children,  and  manifested  a  strong  inclination  to 
rejoin  them.  Fearful  of  losing  her  lover  altogether, 
the  prima  donna  resigned  herself  to  sharing  him  with 
another,  and  a  second  imperious  summons,  in  the  King's 
name,  brought  to  Paris  the  young  wife  and  the  two 
children.  And  that  is  how  Madame  Saint-Aubin, 
afterwards  a  great  attraction  at  the  Opera-Comique, 
was  introduced  to  the  Paris  stage. 

The  arrogance  and  caprices  of  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
increased  every  year  ;  the  letters  of  Dauvergne  to  La 
Ferte  and  Amclot  teem  with  complaints  in  regard  to  her 
conduct.  On  May  22,  1785,  the  lady  had  promised  the 
director  to  sing  the  following  evening  in  Armide,  and  that 


314  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

opera  had  duly  been  announced.  But,  at  eleven  o'clock 
the  next  morning,  a  message  came  that  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  was  not  fit  to  sing,  that  she  had  temporarily 
lost  her  voice ;  but  that  she  was  about  to  try  a  remedy 
which  she  had  never  yet  known  to  fail,  and  would  let 
him  know  definitely  at  two  o'clock  whether  she  would 
appear  or  not.  An  hour  later,  a  friend  of  the  singer 
called  upon  Dauvergne  to  inform  him  that  the  remedy 
had  not  yet  had  the  desired  effect,  but  that,  if  at  four 
o'clock  the  lost  voice  had  returned,  its  owner  would 
''  make  an  effort."  Finally,  almost  at  the  last  moment, 
Madame  Saint-Huberty  sent  a  servant  to  announce  that 
it  was  absolutely  impossible  for  her  to  appear  that  even- 
ing ;  and  an  actress,  who  was  only  very  imperfectly  ac- 
quainted with  the  part — for,  since  no  one  was  allowed 
to  replace  the  imperious  prima  donna,  save  with  her 
own  consent,  it  was  worth  no  one's  while  to  understudy 
her — was  compelled  to  sing  the  difficult  role  of  Armide, 
and  to  be  soundly  hissed  for  her  pains. 

A  few  days  later,  Madame  Saint-Huberty  started  for 
her  annual  tour  in  the  provinces.  On  the  eve  of  her 
departure,  there  was  a  terrible  scene,  in  the  green-room, 
between  the  actress  and  Dauvergne,  because  the  latter 
had  very  properly  declined  to  allow  the  lady  to  carry 
away  with  her  ten  costumes,  the  property  of  the  theatre, 
the  removal  of  which  would  have  rendered  it  impossible 
to  play  any  of  the  operas  for  which  they  had  been  designed 
until  Madame  Saint-Huberty  returned  or  fresh  ones 
had  been  made. 

The  arrogance  and  insolence  of  the  prima  donna 
seem  to  have  reached  a  climax  in  the  year  1787.  On 
January  13,  at  a  general  meeting  of  the  company,  called 
for   the   purpose   of   examining   the   accounts,    Madame 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  315 

Saint-Hubcrty  rising  from  her  seat,  "  not  like  a  reasonable 
woman,  but  like  a  Fury,"  denounced  Vion,  the  conductor 
of  the  orchestra,  who  had  apparently  declined  to  allow 
her  to  take  liberties  with  the  time,  as  incapable  of  holding 
the  baton,  and  demanded  his  immediate  dismissal, 
vowing  that  if  he  appeared  again  in  the  orchestra,  she 
would,  no  matter  what  might  be  the  result,  refuse  to 
sing  her  part. 

At  the  end  of  the  following  March,  some  days  before 
the  annual  closing  of  the  theatre,  and  without  troubling 
to  ask  permission,  the  actress  started  off  for  Alsace,  with 
the  view  of  singing  at  the  Strasburg  theatre.  She  was, 
however,  speedily  followed  by  a  courier,  with  a  letter  for 
the  director  at  Strasburg,  forbidding  him  to  allow  her 
to  appear,  and  orders  for  the  lady  to  return  immediately 
to  Paris. 

She  obeyed,  burning  with  indignation  and  resolved 
no  longer  to  submit  to  such  humiliations,  and  wrote  to 
the  long-suffering  Dauvergne  the  following  letter  : 

"  The  trouble,  the  disgust  and  the  vexation  occasioned 
me  by  the  reprimands  and  threats  which  your  continual 
complaints  bring  upon  me  from  the  Minister  (Amelot), 
far  from  increasing  my  courage,  affect  my  health  and 
strength,  and  will  end  by  bringing  about  what  is  so 
ardently  desired  :  the  renunciation  of  my  engagement, 
which  it  is  wished  to  annul,  and  my  definite  retirement 
from  the  theatre ;  for  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  support 
any  longer  such  vexations.  You  know,  Monsieur,  that 
I  am  not  ignorant  how  much  you  hate  me,  and  that  I 
expect  to  feel  all  the  effects  of  your  hatred." 

However,  in  spite  of  this  letter,  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  did  not  actually  retire  from  the  Opera  until 
more  than  three  years  later. 


3i6  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Not  only  did  Madame  Saint-Huberty  treat  the  wishes 
of  the  authorities  of  the  Opera  with  contempt,  but  she 
encouraged  others  to  follow  her  example.  In  September 
1786,  a  certain  Mile.  Gavaudan,  one  of  her  particular 
friends,  relying  on  her  support,  refused  to  sing  in  a  now 
forgotten  opera  called  Le  Toison  d^Or,  presumably 
because  she  considered  the  role  of  Calliope,  for  which  she 
had  been  cast,  unworthy  of  her  talents.  Thereupon, 
Dauvergne,  according  to  the  custom  in  such  cases, 
obtained  a  lettre  de  cachet,  in  virtue  of  which  the  recalci- 
trant actress  was  carried  off  to  the  prison  of  La  Force, 
where  she  would  appear  to  have  been  treated  as  a 
first-class  misdemeanant.  Madame  Saint-Huberty  was 
furious  at  the  punishment  meted  out  to  her  protegee; 
threatened  the  director  that  she  would  employ  all  the 
influence  at  her  command  to  have  him  driven  igno- 
miniously  from  his  post,  and  demanded  that  Mile. 
Gavaudan  should  be  permitted  to  leave  the  prison,  in 
order  that  she  might  dine  with  her  and  sing  her  part  in 
Sacchini's  (Enone,  before  the  general  rehearsal.  This 
request  was  granted ;  but  the  pleasure  of  the  two  friends 
was  somewhat  marred  by  the  fact  that  a  police-agent 
was  deputed  to  accompany  the  young  lady  to  the  prima 
donna's  house  and  escort  her  back  to  prison  afterwards. 
Madame  Saint-Huberty  then  wrote  an  impertinent  letter 
to  La  Ferte,  insisting  on  the  immediate  and  unconditional 
release  of  her  friend  ;  but  failed  to  obtain  any  satisfac- 
tion in  that  quarter  ;  and,  shortly  afterwards.  Mile. 
Gavaudan,  having  been  threatened  with  a  period  of 
solitary  confinement,  if  she  continued  contumacious, 
decided  to  capitulate,  and  sang  the  despised  part  of 
Calliope  very  charmingly,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
she  was  in  a  state  of  semi-intoxication  at  the  time. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  317 

A  prolific  source  of  dispute  between  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  and  the  administration  of  the  Opera,  and  one 
in  which  the  singer  is  certainly  entitled  to  every  sympathy, 
was  her  determination  to  wear  the  costumes  appropriate 
to  the  parts  she  played.  The  chief  objection  on  the  part 
of  the  authorities  to  gratify  her  wishes  in  this  respect 
was  on  the  score  of  expense,  for  never  was  theatre  con- 
ducted with  such  sordid,  such  cheeseparing,  economy 
as  the  Paris  Opera.  In  1784,  a  special  general  meeting 
of  the  committee  was  considered  necessary  to  examine 
the  design  of  a  costume  which  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
desired  for  the  part  of  Armide,  and  to  decide  whether 
she  should  be  permitted  to  have  it.  "  The  committee," 
says  the  report  on  the  subject  addressed  to  Amelot, 
"  considering  that  this  part,  in  which  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty  has  not  yet  been  seen,  might  give  to  the  work 
the  charm  of  novelty  and  procure  for  the  Opera  advan- 
tageous receipts  during  several  representations,  believes 
that  they  ought  to  give  to  Madame  Saint-Huberty  the 
satisfaction  she  deserves,  the  more  so  since  she  has  no 
objection  to  sharing  the  part  with  Mile.  Levasseur,  it 
having  been  arranged  that,  in  case  she  should  be  in- 
disposed, the  dress  should  be  worn  by  the  actresses  who 
replace  her." 

In  the  margin  of  this  report,  the  Minister  writes  as 
follows  :  "  Good  for  this  time  only,  and  without  the 
establishment  of  a  precedent.  All  the  members,  without 
distinction,  must  wear  the  costumes  provided  for  them 
by  the  administration,  so  long  as  they  are  in  a  fit  state 
to  be  worn."  ^ 

But  the  authorities  were  seldom  so  complacent. 
Two  years  later,  there  was  a  sharp  difference  of  opinion  in 

*  Gited  by  Edmond  de  Goncowrt,  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  p.  190* 


3i8  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

regard  to  the  necessity  of  certain  costumes  which  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  had  demanded  for  the  operas  of  Fenelo-pe 
and  Alceste ;  and  La  Ferte  wrote  to  the  singer  the 
following  letter  : 

"  It  is  not  M.  de  la  Laistic,  Madame,  who  decides 
what  dresses  are  to  be  made  for  the  performances  before 
the  Court,  but  the  persons  appointed  by  the  King  to 
supervise  the  costumes  and  the  expenses.  I  cannot 
disguise  from  you  that  at  Fontainebleau  there  was  much 
displeasure  about  the  dress  which  you  exacted,  and 
which,  almost  on  your  sole  authority,  you  had  caused 
to  be  made  for  the  part  of  Penelope,  which  appeared  in 
no  way  suitable  either  to  the  position  of  that  princess, 
so  long  afflicted,  or  to  the  magnificence  of  the  period, 
fabulous  though  it  was.  You  must  have  noticed  that 
it  was  not  thought  becoming  for  you  to  wear  it  in  Paris. 
.  .  .  To-day,  you  demand  a  simpler  dress  for  Alceste. 
.  .  .  Finally,  I  am  going  to  send  your  letter  to  M. 
Bocquet,^  that  he  may  consult  with  M.  Dauvergne 
and  cause  what  is  necessary  to  be  done.  You  must  be 
convinced  of  our  desire  to  satisfy  you  in  all  reasonable 
things,  and  to  be  agreeable  to  you.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  you  ought  to  understand  that  you  are  obliged 
to  conform,  like  all  your  comrades,  and  those  who  played 
the  first  parts  before  you,  to  the  regulations  and  to  the 
costumes  selected  for  them.  For,  if  each  one  desired 
to  dress  according  to  individual  taste,  the  result  would 
be  inextricable  confusion,  and  an  expenditure  both 
useless  and  ruinous  for  the  King  and  the  Opera.  .  .  ."  ^ 

Then,  in  September  1788,  we  find  Dauvergne  writing 
to  La  Ferte  that  fresh  complications  had  arisen,  because 

'  The  superintendent  of  the  wardrobe  of  the  Opera. 

-  Cited  by  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  p.  171. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  319 

Madame  Saint-Huberty  had  demanded  two  new  dresses  for 
the  part  of  Chimene,  in  Sacchini's  opera  of  that  name,  and 
one  for  each  of  her  four  attendants.  He  finds  comfort, 
however,  in  the  reflection,  that,  in  the  event  of  the  lady 
refusing  to  sing,  owing  to  her  request  not  being  acceded 
to,  he  has  provided  himself  with  no  less  than  four  sub- 
stitutes. 

About  the  same  time,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  friction 
between  Madame  Saint-Huberty  and  the  administration 
on  the  subject  of  a  chignon,  which  the  prima  donna  had 
taken  upon  herself  to  order,  without  apparently  con- 
sulting the  committee.  The  bill  for  this  chignon,  the 
design  for  which  had  been  submitted  to  a  number  of 
experts,  was  pronounced  by  the  committee  "  horribly 
dear,"  and  they  unanimously  decided  that  in  future 
none  must  be  ordered,  unless  the  sketch  and  the  estimate 
had  first  been  approved  by  themselves. 

The  amours  of  the  great  actresses,  danseuses,  and 
singers  of  the  eighteenth  century  occupy  almost  as  much 
space  in  the  memoirs  and  correspondence  of  the  time 
as  their  professional  triumphs.  With  a  regularity  and 
a  wealth  of  detail  which  would  be  beyond  all  praise, 
if  applied  to  some  more  worthy  subject,  the  Bachau- 
monts  and  Metras  recount  day  by  day  the  private  history 
of  these  courtesan-artistes,  register  the  births  and  deaths 
of  their  fleeting  attachments,  and  give  us  without  inter- 
ruption the  long  succession  of  noble  and  wealthy  admirers 
who  succumbed  to  their  charms.  But  the  career  of 
Madame  Saint-Huberty  seems  to  have  provided  the 
chroniclers  of  contemporary  scandal  with  singularly  little 
which  they  deem  worthy  to  be  transmitted  to  posterity. 
Possibly,  as  one  of  the  biographers  suggests,  this  is  to  be 


320  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

accounted  for  by  the  humble  social  position  occupied 
by  those  whom  she  honoured  with  her  favours ;  for  the 
Vol  -plus  haul  credits  the  queen  of  the  Opera  with  tender 
relations  with  several  third-rate  financiers  and  obscure 
concert-singers,  to  whom,  of  course,  must  be  added  the 
tenor  Saint-Aubin.  However,  that  may  be,  the  only 
lover  of  any  social  distinction  that  we  hear  of  is  the 
Marquis  de  Louvois,^  until,  during  the  last  years  of  her 
career  at  the  Opera,  the  singer  developed  a  sincere  and 
lasting  attachment  for  the  Comte  de  Launai  d'Antraigues. 
Louis  de  Launai  d'Antraigues — a  very  handsome 
man,  according  to  Madame  Vigee  Lebrun — was  born 
about  1755,  at  Ville-Neuve-de-Berg,  in  Le  Vivarais. 
He  claimed  descent  from  the  celebrated  d'Antraigues, 
the  companion-in-arms  of  Henri  IV.,  to  whom  that 
monarch  wrote,  in  1588  :  "...  I  hope  that  you  are 
by  this  time  recovered  of  the  wound  that  you  received 
at  Coutras,  fighting  so  valiantly  by  my  side  ;  and,  if  it 
be  as  I  hope,  do  not  fail  (for  by  God's  aid,  in  a  little  while, 
we  shall  have  fighting  to  do,  and,  consequently,  great 
need  of  your  services)  to  start  immediately  to  rejoin 
us."  Later,  when  the  count  was  sitting  in  the  States- 
General,  as  the  representative  of  Le  Vivarais,  this  claim, 
which  would  have  entitled  him  to  certain  privileges, 
was  contested  ;  but  he  was  indisputably  of  good  family, 
and  his  mother  was  a  Saint-Priest,  sister  to  the  Minister 

^  It  is  true  that  Metra  writes,  under  date  March  24,  1783,  as 
follows :  "  Mile.  Laguerre  had  been  for  a  long  time  the  mistress  of 
the  Due  de  Bouillon.  Madame  Saint-Huberti  has  replaced  her  in  the 
heart  of  this  prince  and  in  her  rights  on  his  fortune.  He  has  just 
purchased  her  favours,  so  many  times  cheaply  disposed  of,  by  a  con- 
tract of  one  hundred  thousand  ^cus."  But  Edmond  de  Goncourt  is 
inclined  to  think  that  Metra  is  here  drawing  upon  his  very  vivid 
imagination  with  more  than  his  usual  freedom. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  321 

of  that  name.  He  appears  to  have  begun  life  in  the  army 
in  the  Regiment  du  Vivarais,  which,  however,  he  soon 
quitted,  according  to  one  account,  because  he  had 
declined  to  fight  a  duel.  Afterwards,  he  spent  several 
years  in  foreign  travel,  and  on  his  return  to  France, 
divided  his  time  between  his  country-seat  and  Paris, 
where  he  frequented  the  society  of  philosophers  and  men 
of  science,  among  whom  were  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau 
and  the  Montgolfiers. 

An  ardent  politician  and  possessed  of  considerable 
literary  gifts,  he,  in  1788,  made  his  debut  as  a  publicist 
by  a  Memoire  sur  les  Hats  generauxy  leurs  droits  et  la 
manihe  de  les  convoquer^  which  showed  a  marked  pre- 
dilection for  republican  government,  and  created  no 
small  sensation.  However,  his  opinions  underwent  a 
sudden  and  startling  transformation  soon  after  he  had 
taken  his  seat  in  the  States-General,  and  thenceforth 
he  combated  with  warmth  the  very  doctrines  of  which  he 
had  once  been  the  ardent  advocate.  So  complete  a  volte- 
face  naturally  excited  the  ridicule  and  contempt  of  his 
former  political  friends,  and  Mirabeau,  in  a  published 
letter  addressed  to  him,  compared  him  to  a  weather- 
cock ;  but  that  he  was  animated  by  sincere  conviction 
there  can  be  no  question. 

At  what  period  began  the  connection  between  the 
count  and  the  singer,  which  was  to  end  in  so  tragic  a 
manner,  is  uncertain.  But,  according  to  a  letter  written 
by  d'Antraigues  to  his  wife,  after  their  secret  marriage 
in  1790,  their  first  relations  went  back  to  1783.  However 
that  may  be,  d'Antraigues  did  not  immediately  become 
the  lady's  lover,  for  his  early  letters,  several  of  which 
were  in  the  possession  of  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  at  the 
time   when   he   wrote    his    monograph   on    the   actress, 


322  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

reveal  him  as  still  in  the  character  of  a  soupirant,  and 
a  very  humble  one  at  that.  "  I  beg  you,"  one  of  these 
epistles  concludes,  "  to  continue  your  kindness  towards 
me,  and  to  be  well  assured  of  the  esteem  and  attachment 
with  which  you  have  inspired  me." 

Gradually,  however,  the  esteem  and  attachment 
develop  into  a  warmer  feeling,  and  we  find  him  imploring 
her  not  to  forget  "  a  man  who  loves  her  heart  and  her 
virtues,"  though  two  hundred  leagues  separate  them. 
One  of  these  later  letters,  written  in  answer  to  some 
complaints  of  Madame  Saint-Huberty  in  regard  to  the 
envious  and  jealous  persons  by  whom  she  was  surrounded, 
is  of  interest,  since  it  shows  that  at  the  height  of  her 
fame  the  great  singer  still  led  a  simple  life,  and  that, 
even  if  she  were  the  abandoned  woman  that  Dauvergne 
declared  her  to  be,  she  did  not  stoop  to  venal  amours  : 

"  I  have  heard  them  (her  enemies),  it  is  true,  seek 
to  turn  you  into  ridicule,  accuse  you  of  loving  to  save 
money,  jeer  at  your  simplicity,  and  laugh  at  you  for 
driving  about  Paris  in  a  hackney-coach.  But  I  have 
also  seen  honest  and  excellent  men  love  and  admire 
you  on  account  of  this  very  simplicity.  Do  you  think 
that  one  can  see,  without  sympathy,  without  enthu- 
siasm, an  amiable  and  celebrated  woman  leave  her  house 
in  a  hackney-coach,  when  it  would  be  easy  for  her  to 
be  drawn  in  the  gilded  chariot  of  vice  and  infamy  ?  It 
is  beautiful,  it  is  noble,  to  exhibit  honesty  and  virtue 
in  the  haunt  of  baseness,  greed,  and  the  most  abject 
passions.  It  is  sweet  to  see  talent  in  all  its  brilliancy 
associated  with  the  virtues  of  a  noble  soul.  It  is  delight- 
ful, for  those  who  can  appreciate  it,  to  be  able  to  yield 
to  the  most  true  enthusiasm.  It  is  glorious  for  the  woman 
who  inspires  it  not  to  excite  in  the  heart  of  her  admirers 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  323 

that  regret  which  is  occasioned  by  the  sight  of  a  sublime 
talent  exercised  by  a  man  or  woman  who  personally, 
is  contemptible."  ^ 

Madame  Saint-Huberty,  on  her  side,  was  far  from 
insensible  to  the  count's  devotion.  Writing  from  Bor- 
deaux, in  September  1784,  she  informed  him  that  she 
keeps  his  bust  in  her  room,  and  that  all  the  crowns  she 
receives  in  the  theatre  from  her  enthusiastic  admirers 
she  places  on  his  head.  And,  at  length,  three  years  later, 
comes  a  very  tender  and  charming  letter,  which  shows  us 
that  the  thin  dividing  line  between  friendship  and  love 
has  already  been  passed  : 

"  Endeavour  to  make  Cabanis  love  me  a  little,  in 
order  that  he  may  cure  me.^  I  fear  to  die,  since  thou 
hast  told  me  that  thou  dost  believe  that  thou  canst  love 
me  always.  I  believe  thee,  so  far  as  it  is  in  me  to  believe 
that  which  does  not  depend  on  ourselves.  See  what  it 
is  to  love  people  for  themselves  or  their  virtues.  For 
myself,  I  am  well  assured  that  I  shall  love  thee  always, 
whatever  may  happen,  because  before  I  loved  thee,  I 
desired  for  thee  all  thy  good  qualities.  .  .  .  My  beloved, 
when  I  think  that  nothing  stands  in  the  way  of  our 
happiness,  my  heart  thrills  with  pleasure ;  but  this 
thought  does  not  render  the  present  moment  very 
agreeable.  I  am  working  to  become  independent,  and 
I  am  killing  myself. 

"  If  I  have  lost,  by  the  constant  labours  and  fatigues 
which  I  have  undergone,  the  freshness  of  youth,  in  which 
coarse-grained  men  find  pleasure,  I  hope  that,  in  forming 

^  Cited  by  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  p.  i86. 

'  Cabanis  was  the  Comte  d'Antraigues's  physician  in  Paris.  Shortly 
before  this  letter  was  written,  Madame  Saint-Huberty  had  placed  her- 
self under  his  care  and  presumably  he  was  still  prescribing  for  her. 


324  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

my  heart  on  that  of  the  one  I  love,  it  will  take  the  place 
of  all  that  another  than  thyself  might  desire.  I  love 
thee  with  passion,  and  it  is  not  blind  ;  thou  canst  not 
change  thy  nature,  and  that  is  all  that  interests  me  in 
thee." 

Madame  Saint-Huberty's  assertion  that  she  was 
"  killing  herself  "  was  merely  a  figure  of  speech  ;  but,  at 
the  same  time,  there  was  no  disputing  the  fact  that  the 
immense  amount  of  work  she  voluntarily  imposed  on 
herself  during  her  provincial  tours  had  told  heavily 
upon  her,  and  was  gradually  destroying  the  freshness  of  her 
voice,  so  that  she  now  never  sang  more  than  twice  a  week, 
and  had  been  compelled  to  abandon  several  of  her  most 
famous  roles,  which  she  dared  no  longer  attempt.  "  Yester- 
day," writes  Dauvergne  to  La  Ferte,"the  demoiselle  Saint- 
Huberty  appeared  to  the  public  to  have  lost  much  of  her 
voice.  I  predicted  to  you  that  this  woman  would  not 
last  another  two  years.  I  am  persuaded  that,  if  she 
makes  another  provincial  tour,  she  will  finish  herself 
altogether."  Nevertheless,  she  still  retained  her  hold 
on  the  affections  of  the  public,  and,  on  the  evenings  on 
which  she  was  announced  to  sing,  all  Paris  flocked  to  the 
Bouvelard  Saint-Martin. 

It  was  well  for  the  administration  of  the  Opera  that, 
in  the  splendid  houses  which  Madame  Saint-Huberty 
never  failed  to  draw  they  were  able  to  find  some  com- 
pensation for  the  lady's  insolence  and  insubordination 
which,  in  these  later  years,  passed  all  bounds.  At  the 
beginning  of  October  1789,  she,  as  usual  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  declined  to  sing  the  part  of  Chimene,  in  Sacchini's 
opera  of  that  name,  on  the  ground  of  feeling  too  fatigued, 
The  authorities,  aware  that  this  was  merely  an  excuse. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  325 

insisted  on  her  appearing,  when  she  replied  that  she 
would  "  make  an  effort,"  on  condition  that  an  employe 
of  the  theatre,  named  Parisis,  who  had  recently  been 
discharged  for  drunkenness  and  insolence,  should  be  at 
once  reinstated.  This,  however,  was  too  much  even 
for  the  long-suffering  Dauvergne  to  submit  to;  and  the 
threat  of  mulcting  her  in  a  month's  salary  saved  the 
situation. 

At  the  weekly  meetings  of  the  company,  at 
which  it  was  customary  to  settle  the  repertoire  for  the 
ensuing  week,  and  where  the  administrative  corres- 
pondence was  read,  Madame  Saint-Huberty  never  failed 
to  create  some  unpleasantness  or  other.  Now,  she  would 
encourage  some  unruly  actress  or  danseuse  to  resist  the 
authority  of  the  director  ;  now,  she  would  punctuate 
the  reading  of  the  comminatory  letters  of  La  Ferte 
with  bursts  of  derisive  laughter  (no  wonder  that  the 
old  Intendant  alludes  to  her,  in  writing  to  Dauvergne 
as  "  une  inipudente  coquine  ") ;  anon,  she  would  object 
to  the  arrangements  for  the  week.  How  was  it  possible, 
she  would  inquire,  for  her  to  sing  Alceste  on  Friday, 
after  singing  Didon  on  Tuesday  ?  Did  they  wish  to 
kill  her  ?  Dauvergne  would  innocently  suggest  that 
another  actress  should  sing  Didon,  and  that  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  should  rest,  that  her  voice  might  be  fresh 
for  Alceste.  What  !  Allow  another  actress  to  sing 
Didon  ! — her  own  role  ! — her  own  creation  !  No  one 
but  herself  should  sing  it,  so  long  as  she  remained  a 
member  of  the  company. 

Finally,  the  unfortunate  administration,  for  the  sake 
of  peace  and  tranquillity,  agreed  that  the  lady  should  not 
be  required  to  sing  more  than  once  a  week,  that  is  to 
say  on  Fridays,  the  fashionable  night  at  the  Opera. 


326  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

In  March  1790,  the  Comte  d'Antraigues  openly 
accused  of  apostacy,  denounced  by  the  revolutionary 
Press  to  public  vengeance,  and  the  recipient,  every  day, 
of  violent  anonymous  letters  threatening  assassination, 
deemed  it  prudent  to  quit  France.  On  April  3,  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  obtained  a  passport  to  Geneva  and,  accom- 
panied by  her  femme  de  chamhre  and  two  men-servants, 
set  out  for  Switzerland,  where  she  joined  the  count  in 
the  environs  of  Lausanne. 

The  two  lovers  remained  for  nearly  three  months 
at  Lausanne,  and  then  removed  to  a  chateau,  near  Min- 
drisio,  belonging  to  the  Count  Turconi,  and  here,  on 
December  29,  they  were  secretly  married  in  the  neigh- 
bouring church  of  Saint-Eusebe. 

For  grave  reasons  known  to  himself,  the  Bishop  of 
Como,  in  whose  diocese  the  marriage  took  place,  had 
granted  to  the  ofHciating  priest  permission  to  perform 
the  ceremony  without  inquiries  or  proofs,  at  whatever 
date,  hour,  or  place  the  parties  might  select. 

The  day  after  the  marriage,  the  count  addressed 
to  his  wife  the  following  letter  : 

"  I  may  die,  my  dear  wife,  and  cannot  acquit  myself 
too  soon  of  the  most  sacred  of  duties. 

"  It  is  possible  that  there  may  be  wanting  to  our 
union  some  of  the  formalities,  which,  according  to  the 
law  of  France,  are  required  for  the  legalisation  of  marriages, 
and  imperious  circumstances  may  prevent  me  from  ful- 
filling them  for  some  time  to  come. 

"  If  I  happen  to  die  before  that  time,  I  wish  you  to 
render  to  my  memory  the  honour  which  you  owe  it,  by 
rendering  to  yourself  that  which  is  due  to  you. 

"  I  declare  then  that,  after  seven  years  of  mutual 
confidence,  I  have  united  by  marriage  to  my  destiny  the 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  327 

woman  who  has  had  the  courage  to  wish  to  share  my 
misfortunes ;  that,  on  December  29,  1790,  after  having 
obtained  from  the  Bishop  of  Como  a  dispensation  for 
the  publication  of  banns,  and  permission  for  us  to  marry/ 
at  any  time  and  place  that  might  please  us,  I  married 
you  in  the  Chateau  of  Castel  San-Pietro,  in  the  presence 
of  two  priests  as  witnesses. 

"  With  several  reasons  for  keeping  this  marriage 
secret,  I  did  not  conceal  from  you  the  most  imperative 
of  all  :  the  grief  it  would  cause  my  worthy  and  venerable 
mother.  But  I  knew  her  ;  if  she  had  only  tears  to  give 
to  my  memory,  she  would  forgive  our  secret  union,  and 
would  see  only  the  wife  of  her  son  in  the  woman  who 
watched  over  his  destinies,  who  softened  their  rigour, 
and  who  received  the  last  sighs  of  his  heart." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  following  year,  the  Comtesse 
d'Antraigues  became  enceinte.  The  marriage  having 
been  kept  secret,  the  count  was  anxious  that  the  birth 
of  the  child  should  not  be  known  in  the  neighbourhood ; 
and  it  was  at  a  little  village  on  the  outskirts  of  Milan 
that,  on  June  26,  1792,  the  ex-singer  presented  him  with 
a  son,  baptized  two  days  later,  under  the  names  of  Pierre 
Antoine  Emmanuel  Jules,  born  of  the  illustrious 
Emmanuel  Louis  Alexandre  Henri  de  Launai,  Comte 
d'Antraigues  and  of  the  dame  Antoinette  Clavel.  So 
soon  as  the  countess  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  travel, 
she,  with  her  husband  and  infant  son,  returned  to 
Mindrisio. 

From  this  quiet  corner  of  Italian  Switzerland,  where 
he  lived  with  the  former  queen  of  the  Opera,  the  Comte 
d'Antraigues  combated  the  men  and  things  of  the  new 
France,  in  a  series  of  very  able  brochures,  wherein  he 


328  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

constituted  himself  the  speaking-trumpet  of  the  counter- 
Revolution.  But  he  was  very  far  from  being  content 
with  this  warfare  of  the  pen.  He  became  the  devoted 
servant  of  the  Bourbons,  the  intermediary  between  them 
and  the  Courts  of  St.  James's,  Madrid,  Berlin,  and 
Vienna,  and  rendered  material  assistance  in  weaving  that 
network  of  secret  intrigue,  which,  in  spite  of  the  successes 
of  the  French  armies,  for  long  rendered  doubtful  the 
establishment  of  the  new  order  of  things.^ 

In  discharge  of  these  diplomatic  missions,  he  travelled 
incessantly,  accompanied  everywhere  by  his  wife,  who 
shared  his  fatigues  and  dangers,  and  received,  in  return, 
his  full  confidence.  The  count  and  countess  were  at 
Venice,  in  May  1795,  when  the  city  was  occupied  by 
the  French  troops.  The  count,  who  was  at  the  time 
specially  attached  to  the  Russian  legation,  left  with  the 
Minister  and  his  suite,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and 
child  ;  but  at  Trieste  the  party  was  stopped  by  orders  of 
Bernadotte,  who  commanded  the  French  there,  and 
d'Antraigues  arrested. 

On  being  told  that  he  was  to  be  sent  to  Milan,  the 
count  begged  the  Russian  Minister  to  take  charge  of 
Madame  Saint-Huberty — for  by  that  name  she  was  still 
known — but  the  ex-singer  insisted  on  sharing  his  captivity. 

Touched  by  so  much  devotion,  d'Antraigues  ex- 
plained to  his  captors  that  the  lady  was  his  lawful  wife, 
and  obtained  permission  for  her  to  accompany  him  to 
Milan.     "  I  declared  at  once  to  my  tyrants,"  he  says, 

^  All  sorts  of  legends  have  gathered  round  the  Comte  d'Antraigues, 
who  is  depicted  as  a  kind  of  Royalist  Marat,  ready  to  demand,  on  the 
return  of  the  Bourbons,  "  his  four  hundred  thousand  heads."  One 
story  is  to  the  effect  that,  when  in  Venice,  he  had  been  heard  to  boast 
that  he  had  caused  several  agents  of  the  French  Republic  to  be 
poisoned. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  329 

"  that  I  was  married,  that  I  had  a  son,  and  that  I  desired 
to  see  him.  They  acceded  to  my  request.  She  came, 
with  that  dear  child  of  five  years  old,  who  threw  himself 
upon  me.  That  moment,  which  made  her  mine  for 
ever,  caused  me  to  forget  my  foes,  my  persecutors,  the 
future  and  the  present.  I  owe  that  to  my  persecutors. 
To  say  how  much  I  was  indebted  to  my  wife  in 
these  frightful  circumstances  is  beyond  my  power. 
Never  did  there  exist  a  courage  more  firm,  a  soul  more 
mistress  of  itself,  a  character  stronger  in  adversity ; 
never  did  one  behold  more  self-confidence  in  mis- 
fortune." 

At  Milan,  the  count  was  at  first  imprisoned  in  a 
convent,  where  prisoners  of  war  were  confined,  but,  soon 
afterwards,  taken  to  the  citadel,  and  there  placed  in  a 
dungeon,  twelve  feet  long  by  six  broad.  Thanks,  how- 
ever, to  the  urgent  representations  of  his  wife,  he  was, 
some  weeks  later,  liberated  on  parole,  the  understanding 
being  that  he  was  not  to  leave  the  city  or  even  change 
his  residence.  But,  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning 
of  August  25,  he  broke  his  parole  and  escaped,  his  flight, 
thanks  to  the  ingenuity  of  his  wife,  who  gave  out  that 
he  was  ill  in  bed,  and  went  about  the  house  preparing 
broth  and  other  remedies,  not  being  discovered  till  some 
days  later. 

It  has  been  suggested  that,  for  reasons  of  their  own, 
the  French  authorities  at  Milan  connived  at  the  count's 
escape  ;  but  it  seems  more  probable  that  he  fled  through 
fear  of  being  sent  to  Paris,  where  he  would  certainly 
have  been  brought  to  trial  and  very  possibly  executed. 
Such  was  undoubtedly  the  opinion  in  Royalist  circles, 
and,  to  recognise  the  countess's  courage  and  devotion 
and  her  services  to  the  "  cause,"  the  Comte  de  Provence, 


330  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

in  his  theoretical  character  of  King  of  France,  sent  her 
the  order  of  Saint-Michel.^ 

Successively  we  find  the  adventurous  couple  at 
Vienna,  Berlin,  and  Dresden,  in  which  last-named  city 
they  seemed  to  have  passed  the  greater  part  of  the  year 
1804,  the  whole  of  the  year  1805,  and  the  first  months 
of  the  year  1806,  the  count,  who  had  been  nominated 
a  Counsellor  of  State  by  the  Emperor  Alexander  of 
Russia,  corresponding  with  Sweden,  through  Alopeus, 
the  Swedish  Minister  in  London,  and  working  generally 
to  bring  about  a  European  coalition  against  Napoleon. 
In  September  1806,  driven  from  Dresden  by  Napoleon's 
victories,  and  unable  to  find  an  asylum  on  the  Continent, 
they  quitted  Germany  and  established  themselves  in 
England.  Here  they  resided  in  a  pretty  cottage  at 
Barnes,  and  lived  in  good  style  on  the  various  pensions 
which  they  had  received.  The  count  lost  no  time  in 
entering  into  negotiations  with  the  English  Govern- 
ment, to  whom  he  is  said  to  have  communicated  the 
articles,  real  or  imaginary,  of  the  Treaty  of  Tilsit,  though 
how  he  contrived  to  obtain  particulars  of  a  treaty  drawn 
up  with  so  much  privacy  is  somewhat  difficult  to  under- 
stand. 

However,  that  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  d'Antraigues 
was  employed  by  the  Foreign  Office  in  certain  delicate 
negotiations  and  that  he  received   a   pension   in  return 

^  This  was  not  the  only  reward  of  her  services  which  the  ex-singer 
received.  In  1804,  the  Emperor  of  Austria  accorded  her  a  pension  of 
1000  ducats,  *'  in  memory  of  the  services  rendered  by  her  to  her  late 
Majesty  Marie  Antoinette  of  France,  as  superintendent  of  the  music  of 
that  august  princess."  As  for  the  Comte  d'Antraigues,  he  was,  for 
some  years,  in  receipt  of  a  handsome  pension  from  the  various  European 
Courts,  and,  in  May  1800,  received  from  the  king  of  the  Two  Sicilies 
the  royal  order  of  Constantine,  together  with  a  pension. 


MADAME   SAINT-HUBERTY  331 

for  his  services ;  and  it  was  this  which,  according  to  a 
legend  which  still  finds  acceptance  with  some  French 
writers,  brought  about  the  tragic  end  of  both  himself 
and  his  wife,  on  the  morning  of  July  22,  181 2. 

The  story  went  that  Fouche,  desirous  of  discovering 
what  was  going  on  between  d'Antraigues  and  the  English 
Government,  despatched  two  trusted  agents  to  London, 
with  orders  at  all  costs  to  intercept  the  correspondence. 
The  agents  succeeded  in  bribing  the  count's  Piedmontese 
servant  Lorenzo,  to  tamper  with  the  letters  which  passed 
between  his  master  and  the  Foreign  Office  ;  and  that 
this  man,  finding  that  his  treachery  was  certain  to  be 
discovered,  through  a  visit  which  the  count  was  on  the 
point  of  making  to  Canning,  in  a  moment  of  frenzied 
despair,  assassinated  both  his  master  and  mistress,  and 
then  took  his  own  life.  From  the  evidence  given  at 
the  inquest,  however,  it  would  appear  that  Lorenzo 
committed  the  crime,  in  a  fit  of  frenzy,  due  simply  to 
his  having  received  notice  to  leave  the  count's  service. 

The  ^imes  of  July  23,  181 2,  contained  the  following 
account  of  the  tragedy  : 

"  The  Count  and  Countess  d'Antraigues,  French 
noblesse,  and  distantly  related  to  the  unfortunate  family 
of  the  Bourbons,  resided  on  Barnes  Terrace,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Thames.  They  lived  in  a  style  which,  though 
far  from  what  they  had  formerly  moved  in,  yet  was 
rather  bordering  on  high  life  than  the  contrary.  They 
kept  a  carriage,  coachman,  footman,  and  a  servant  out 
of  livery.  The  latter  was  an  Italian  or  Piedmontese, 
named  Lawrence,  and  it  is  of  this  wretch  that  we  have 
to  relate  the  following  particulars.  The  Count  and 
Countess,  intending  to  visit  London  as  yesterday,  ordered 
the  carriage  to  be  at  the  door  by  eight  in  the  morning. 


332  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

which  it  accordingly  was ;  and,  soon  after  that  hour,  they 
were  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  house  to  get  into  it,  the 
Countess  being  at  the  door,  the  Count  coming  down- 
stairs, when  the  report  of  a  pistol  was  heard  in  the  passage, 
which,  it  has  since  appeared,  took  no  effect,  nor  was  it 
then  ascertained  by  whom  it  was  fired.  Lawrence  was 
at  the  time  in  the  passage,  and,  on  the  smoke  subsiding, 
was  seen  to  rush  past  the  Count  and  proceed  with  great 
speed  upstairs.  He  almost  immediately  returned,  with 
a  dirk  in  his  hand,  and  plunged  it  up  to  the  hilt  into  the 
Count's  left  shoulder ;  he  continued  his  course  and 
made  for  the  street  door,  where  stood  the  Countess, 
whom  he  instantly  despatched  by  plunging  the  same 
dirk  into  her  left  breast.  This  last  act  had  scarcely  been 
completed  when  the  Count  appeared  also  at  the  door, 
bleeding,  and  following  the  assassin,  who  made  for  the 
house  and  ran  upstairs.  The  Count,  though  extremely 
weak  and  faint,  continued  to  follow  him  ;  but  so  great 
was  the  terror  occasioned  that  no  one  else  had  the  same 
resolution.  The  assassin  and  the  Count  had  not  been 
upstairs  more  than  a  minute  when  the  report  of  another 
pistol  was  heard,  which  satisfied  those  below  that 
Lawrence  had  finally  put  an  end  to  the  existence  of  his 
master.  The  alarm  was  now  given,  and  the  cry  of 
*  Murder,  murder  !  '  resounded  from  every  mouth. 
The  Countess  was  still  lying  at  the  front  door,  by  which 
the  turnpike  road  runs,  and  at  length  men  of  sufficient 
resolution  were  found  to  venture  upstairs,  and,  horrible 
to  relate,  they  found  the  Count  lying  across  his  own  bed, 
groaning  heavily  and  nearly  dead,  and  the  bloodthirsty 
villain  lying  by  his  side  a  corpse.  He  had  put  a  period 
to  his  own  existence  by  placing  a  pistol  that  he  found 
in  the  room  in  his  mouth  and  discharging  its  contents 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  333 

through  his  head.  The  Count  only  survived  about 
twenty-five  minutes  after  the  fatal  blow,  and  died  without 
being  able  to  utter  a  single  word. 

"  The  Countess  had  by  this  time  been  brought  Into 
the  house  ;  the  wound  was  directly  on  her  left  breast, 
extremely  large,  and  she  died  without  uttering  a  single 
word.  The  servants  of  the  house  were  all  collected  last 
night ;  but  no  cause  for  so  horrid  an  act  was  at  that 
time  known  ;   all  was  but  conjecture. 

"  The  following  circumstance,  in  so  extraordinary 
a  case,  may  be,  however  worth  while  relating.  The 
Count  it  appears,  always  kept  a  brace  of  pistols  loaded 
in  his  bedroom,  and  a  small  dirk.  About  a  month  ago 
the  Countess  and  the  servants  heard  the  report  of  a 
pistol  upstairs,  and  were,  in  consequence,  greatly  alarmed  ; 
when  one  of  the  latter,  a  female,  went  upstairs  and  looked 
into  her  mistress's  room,  it  was  full  of  smoke  and  she 
screamed  out.  On  its  clearing  away,  she  saw  Lawrence 
standing,  who  told  her  nothing  was  the  matter  :  he  had 
only  fired  one  of  his  master's  pistols.  It  afterwards 
appeared  that  he  had  fired  into  the  wainscot ;  it  was 
loaded  with  ball,  and  the  ball  from  the  pistol  is  yet  to  be 
seen. 

"  The  Count  and  Countess  were  about  sixty  years 
of  age.  The  latter  was  highly  accomplished,  a  great 
proficient  in  music,  and  greatly  admired  for  her  singing 
in  fashionable  parties.  There  is  no  reason  whatever 
to  believe  that  Lawrence  was  insane.  Only  about  ten 
minutes  previous  to  his  committing  this  deed  of  blood, 
he  went  over  to  an  adjoining  public-house  and  took  a 
glass  of  gin.  He  had  lived  only  three  months  in  the 
family,  and,  report  says,  was  to  be  discharged  in  a  few 
days. 


334  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  The  Count  and  Countess  had  resided  in  Barnes 
for  four  or  five  years,  and  have  left  an  only  son,  who,  we 
understand,  is  at  present  in  this  country,  studying  the 
law. 

"  Besides  his  house  on  Barnes  Terrace,  Count  d'An- 
traigues  had  a  town  establishment.  No.  7  Queen  Anne 
Street,  W.  He  was  fifty-six,  and  the  Countess  fifty- 
three  years  of  age.  The  Count  had  eminently  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  troubles  which  have  convulsed 
Europe  for  the  past  twenty- two  years.  In  1789,  he  was 
actively  engaged  in  favour  of  the  Resolution,  but  during 
the  tyranny  of  Robespierre  he  emigrated  to  Germany, 
and  was  employed  in  the  service  of  Russia.  At  Venice, 
in  1797,  he  was  arrested  by  Bernadotte,  who  pretended 
to  have  discovered  in  his  portfolio  all  the  particulars  of 
the  plot  upon  which  the  i8th  Fructidor  was  founded. 
The  Count  made  his  escape  from  Milan,  where  he  was 
confined,  and  was  afterwards  employed  in  the  diplomatic 
mission  of  Russia  at  the  Court  of  Dresden.  In  1806 
he  was  sent  to  England,  with  credentials  from  the 
Emperor  of  Russia,  who  had  granted  him  a  pension, 
and  placed  great  dependence  upon  his  services.  He 
received  here  letters  of  denization,  and  was  often  em- 
ployed by  the  Government.  The  Countess  was  the  once 
celebrated  Madame  Saint-Huberty,  an  actress  at  the 
Theatre-Frangais.*  She  had  amassed  a  very  large 
fortune  by  her  professional  talents."  ^ 

And  the  same  impression  of  the  Times  contained 
this  other  account  : 

*  Madame  Saint-Huberty  had,  of  course,  never  appeared  at  the 
Theatre-Fran9ais.     Such  is  fame  ! 

*  As  a  matter  of  fact,  her  savings  only  amounted  to  some  80,000 
francs,  the  whole  of  which  had  been  lost  during  the  Revolution. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  335 

"  The  Count  d'Antraigues,  a  very  eminent  political 
character,  formerly  a  deputy  of  the  nobility  of  Vivarais 
to  the  States-General,  author  of  many  eloquent  tracts, 
who  had  married  the  celebrated  singer  and  actress  of  the 
Royal  Academy  of  Music  at  Paris,  Madame  Saint-Huberty, 
was  murdered  yesterday  morning  at  seven  o'clock,  along 
with  his  lady,  in  their  summer  residence  on  Barnes 
Terrace,  by  one  of  their  servants  named  Lorenzo,  a 
Piedmontese,  aged  twenty-five  years,  who  had  been  only 
a  few  months  in  their  service,  and  whom  they  had  no 
reason  to  suspect  of  such  a  diabolical  design. 

"  Both  the  Count  and  Countess  d'Antraigues  were 
preparing  to  come  to  town,  as  they  usually  did  every 
Wednesday.  The  Count  had  an  appointment  (as  we 
understand)  with  his  particular  friend  Mr.  Canning, 
to  meet  him  at  ten  o'clock,  and  had  actually  taken  his 
papers  in  his  hat  and  proceeded  down  the  staircase  from 
his  bedroom,  his  lady,  who  went  before,  being  at  the 
door  waiting,  and  calling  for  the  servant  to  open  the 
carriage.  Lorenzo  at  that  moment  took  from  the  bed 
of  his  master  a  pistol  and  a  most  superb  Turkish  poignard, 
which  the  Count  d'Antraigues  had  brought  with  him 
from  Constantinople.  He  discharged  the  pistol  at  his 
master,  at  six  paces  distance,  on  the  staircase,  and  missed 
him,  the  ball  passing  between  the  Count  and  Countess. 

"  The  murderer,  seeing  that  the  ball  had  not  taken 
effect,  took  to  the  poignard,  and  stabbed  his  master  in 
the  shoulder.  Though  the  blow  was  mortal,  the  Count 
had  still  strength  to  walk  to  his  room.  The  servant 
then  ran  to  the  Countess,  who  was  shrieking,  and  plunged, 
in  the  most  audacious  manner,  the  poignard  into  her 
breast.  She  fell,  and  died  instantly,  without  any  groans, 
saying  only,  '  Lorenzo  !    Lorenzo  !  ' 


336  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  It  appears  that  the  Count  died,  as  soon  as  he  re- 
entered his  room,  from  an  effusion  of  blood  in  his  chest. 
The  murderer,  bewildered  and  frantic  after  his  ferocious 
deed,  came  to  the  room  where  his  master  was  lying,  and, 
seizing  on  another  of  the  four  pistols  which  the  Count 
kept  constantly  for  his  protection  at  his  bedside,  with 
the  poignard,  under  the  presentiment  that  one  day  or 
other  his  life  would  be  attempted,  discharged  the  contents 
into  his  mouth,  and  shattered  his  head  in  the  most  fearful 
manner.  He  died  on  the  spot,  and  fell  dead  by  the  side 
of  his  master.^ 

"The  alarm  was  given  by  the  coachman,  who  was 
standing  at  the  door,  and  the  other  servants.  Two 
professional  men  came  instantly,  but  no  assistance  could 
prevail.  The  house  was  besmeared  with  blood,  and 
presented  a  most  shocking  spectacle,  the  three  bodies 
being  extended  in  such  a  small  space.  The  coachman 
drove  to  town  to  fetch  the  doctor  and  the  lawyer  who 
was  generally  employed  by  the  Count,  and  to  convey 
the  melancholy  tidings  to  the  house  of  the  deceased  in 
Queen  Anne  Street,  W.,  where  a  great  crowd  of  people 
were  collected  during  the  whole  of  the  day.  Dr.  Cha- 
vernac  of  Gerrard  Street,  the  surgeon,  and  Mr.  Trickey, 
the  solicitor,  both  the  intimate  friends  oi  the  deceased, 
went  post-haste  to  Barnes  Terrace.  The  papers,  jewels 
and  other  effects  of  the  Count  and  Countess  were  put 
under  seal  in  their  presence,  and  in  that  of  a  magistrate 
and  several  respectable  neighbours.  A  coroner's  inquest 
is  to  take  place  this  day  at  Barnes  on  the  three  bodies. 

"  No  cause  is  yet  known  for  the  atrocious  act  which 

^  The  Times  of  July  28,  1812,  states  that  it  had  been  ascertained 
that  Lorenzo  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Sellis,  who,  after  attempting  to 
assassinate  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  committed  suicide 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  337 

has  deprived  of  life  two  persons,  who,  by  their  talents, 
knowledge,  amiable  manners,  and  powerful  connections, 
ranked  very  high  in  society.  The  Count  was  a  man  of 
colossal  stature  and  imposing  countenance,  only  fifty- 
eight  years  of  age,  and  his  lady  fifty-two. 

"  Mr.  Vansittart,  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
the  particular  friend  of  the  Count,  was  informed  of  the 
lamentable  event  early  yesterday,  and  Lord  Sidmouth 
commissioned  Mr.  Brooks  of  the  Alien  Office  to  take, 
conjointly  with  the  Count  La  Chatre,  Commissary  of 
his  Majesty  Louis  XVIIL,  the  proper  measures  to  secure 
the  papers  and  property  of  the  deceased,  who  had  been 
formerly  Commissary  of  his  Most  Christian  Majesty  in 
Italy,  and  till  his  death  an  agent  and  correspondent  of 
the  Emperor  of  Russia." 

Report  of  the  Inquest. 
(From  the  Times,  July  24,  181 2.) 

"  An  inquest  was  held  yesterday  at  the  '  White  Hart,' 
Barnes  Terrace,  before  Charles  Jemmett,  Esq.,  Coroner 
for  the  County,  after  a  view  of  the  bodies  of  the  Count 
and  Countess  d'Antraigues,  and  of  Lawrence,  who 
murdered  them. 

"  Susannah  Black,  the  first  witness,  deposed  that, 
on  July  22nd  inst.,  she  was  ordered  by  the  Countess, 
about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  take  some  books, 
&c.,  to  the  carriage  door  ;  that  she  followed  the  Countess 
to  the  door,  and  saw  Lawrence  near  the  carriage  with  his 
face  to  the  door,  and  ordered  him  to  open  the  carriage 
door  for  his  mistress,  instead  of  which  he  walked  into  the 
house,  and  as  he  passed  her  mistress  a  pistol  was  fired, 
but  she  did  not  know  who  discharged  it.  She  saw  the 
Count  on  the  stairs,  and  Lawrence  going  up  the  stairs. 


338  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Did  not  see  anything  in  his  hand.  She  afterwards  saw 
Lawrence  coming  downstairs  with  a  pistol  in  his  right 
hand,  and  his  left  hand  behind  him,  but  could  not  see 
whether  he  had  anything  in  it  or  not ;  that  she  ran 
into  the  garden  alarmed  ;  and  that,  on  her  return  into 
the  house  by  the  hall,  she  went  to  the  front  door  and  saw 
her  mistress  lying  on  the  ground,  in  the  footpath  of  the 
street,  near  the  carriage.  She  called  for  assistance, 
and  another  servant  and  the  coachman,  David  Hebditch, 
came  to  her,  and  they  took  the  Countess  into  the  house. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  blood  about  her,  and  she  was 
alive,  though  speechless.  Mr.  Ball,  a  surgeon,  was  sent 
for,  who  attended  immediately.  But  her  mistress  died 
in  a  few  minutes  after  the  same.  Witness  stated  that 
one  day,  about  three  weeks  ago,  when  the  Count  was 
absent,  she  was  with  the  Countess  in  her  bedroom, 
when  they  heard  a  loud  report,  and  she  ran  downstairs, 
thinking  it  was  a  rap  at  the  door.  But  finding  no  one 
there,  she  called  '  Lawrence,'  but  no  one  answered. 
She  then  returned  upstairs.  The  Countess  met  her  at 
the  door  of  the  bedroom,  and  said  it  was  the  report  of 
a  pistol.  Witness  ran  upstairs  to  the  Count's  room, 
and  on  coming  to  the  door,  she  saw  some  smoke  issue  from 
it,  and  saw  Lawrence  in  the  room.  She  asked  him  what 
he  was  doing  and  he  answered,  '  Nothing.'  She  then 
went  to  her  mistress,  and  told  her  Lawrence  had  fired 
off  a  pistol.  The  Countess  went  upstairs,  and  witness 
followed  her,  and  heard  her  talk  to  Lawrence  very  coolly, 
but  could  not  tell  what  she  said,  as  she  spoke  French  or 
Italian  ;  but  the  Countess  told  her  afterwards  that  he 
said  he  had  been  handling  the  pistol  and  it  went  off. 
When  Lawrence  came  to  the  kitchen,  she  asked  him  how 
he  dared  to  meddle  with  his  master's  pistols  in  his  absence, 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  339 

and  he  answered  it  went  off  by  chance  as  he  was  handling 
it.  She  never  knew  of  any  quarrel  or  anger  between  the 
Count  and  Lawrence.  Said  Lawrence  was  a  sober 
man,  but  latterly  had  been  more  passionate  than  before. 
Yesterday  morning,  the  wind  having  blown  the  parlour 
door  to  with  a  great  noise,  the  Count  spoke  rather 
sharply  to  Lawrence,  thinking  he  banged  it,  and  would 
wake  his  mistress.  Lawrence  had  lived  in  the  family 
about  three  months.  Believed  the  dagger  produced 
to  be  her  master's,  having  many  times  seen  it  hanging 
in  his  room. 

"  Elizabeth  Ashton,  another  servant  of  the  Count 
and  Countess,  deposed  that  when  the  Countess  came 
first  downstairs,  she  was  standing  at  the  street  door  to 
wait  on  her  mistress.  The  carriage  was  at  the  door. 
Her  mistress  passed  her  and  went  towards  the  carriage — 
the  Count  was  coming  downstairs.  Witness  heard  the 
report  of  a  pistol,  was  stunned  by  it,  said  she  was  a  dead 
woman,  turned  round  and  said,  *  Lawrence  !  Lawrence  ! ' 
When,  looking  up,  she  saw  Lawrence  coming  downstairs, 
with  a  pistol  in  one  hand,  and  a  dagger  in  the  other. 
She  screamed  out,  and  ran  into  the  street,  crying  '  Murder 
murder  !  '  went  over  to  the  public-house  to  give  the  alarm 
and,  on  her  return,  found  her  mistress  lying  on  the  foot- 
path of  the  street  near  the  carriage,  and,  being  so  affected 
that  she  found  she  could  not  give  any  assistance,  she  went 
away. 

"  David  Hebditch,  coachman  to  the  Count  and 
Countess,  deposed  that  he  received  orders  from  Law- 
rence to  have  the  carriage  ready  yesterday  morning, 
July  22,  at  five  minutes  before  eight ;  that  he  was  at 
the  door  with  the  carriage  before  the  clock  struck  eight ; 
that,  as  soon  as  he  arrived  there,  Lawrence  came  to  the 


340  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

coach,  opened  the  door,  and  put  into  the  carriage  a  tin 
can  filled  with  oil ;  that  he  then  went  into  the  house, 
and  soon  afterwards  returned  ;  that  when  the  Countess 
came  down  and  was  proceeding  to  the  carriage,  Lawrence 
went  into  the  house,  and  soon  after  he  passed  his  mistress, 
the  report  of  a  pistol  was  heard  ;  that  the  Countess 
asked  him,  the  coachman,  what  was  the  matter,  and  he 
answered  it  was  from  the  inside  of  the  house,  that  in  a 
few  minutes  afterwards,  as  he  was  sitting  on  his  box 
before  the  door,  he  saw  Lawrence  come  downstairs, 
and,  with  a  sharp  instrument  he  held  in  his  hand,  which 
the  witness  believed  to  be  a  dagger,  strike  it  into  the 
shoulder  of  the  Count — he  saw  the  dagger  under  his 
shoulder  ;  that  Lawrence  then  passed  the  Count  and 
proceeded  towards  the  street-door  ;  that  he,  the  coach- 
man got  off  the  box  as  quickly  as  he  could,  and,  as  he  was 
going  towards  his  master,  the  Countess  passed  him, 
going  towards  the  carriage,  and,  on  turning  round,  to 
follow  her,  he  saw  her  staggering,  and  she  fell,  exclaim- 
ing :  '  It  was  Lawrence  !  it  was  Lawrence  !  '  He  saw 
blood  about  her,  and  some  on  the  ground,  but  could  not 
tell  exactly  what  part  it  came  from.  Did  not  see  Law- 
rence afterwards,  but  in  about  three  minutes  more  heard 
report  of  another  pistol,  which  appeared  to  come  from 
upstairs.  Soon  after  the  Count  came  to  the  door,  and 
blood  ran  out  of  his  sleeve.  Left  him  there,  and  went  to 
assist  the  Countess  into  the  house.  On  surgeon  coming 
and  desiring  her  to  be  stripped,  went  out  of  the  room 
to  look  after  his  master,  and  found  him  sitting  on  the  bed 
in  his  own  room,  in  a  reclining  posture,  with  his  feet  on 
floor.  Was  then  alive,  but  speechless.  At  the  same 
time,  saw  Lawrence,  with  his  face  lying  on  the  floor, 
apparently  dead,  with  some  blood  near  his  mouth.     Mr. 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  341 

King,  a  surgeon,  then  came  and  desired  the  Count 
might  be  stripped.  Witness  assisted  to  do  so,  and  held 
him  while  they  got  a  sponge  and  some  water,  and  washed 
the  wound.  After  that  he  went  away  and  drove  carriage 
to  town.  Believed  Lawrence  was  sober.  He  spoke 
very  correct  to  him,  the  coachman,  when  he  gave  him 
his  order,  and  did  not  appear  at  all  mentally  deranged. 

"  William  Hitchin,  master  of  the  '  Sun '  public- 
house,  at  Barnes,  deposed  that  yesterday  morning,  about 
eight  o'clock,  coming  along  the  street,  he  saw  Lawrence 
put  a  tin  can  into  the  Count's  carriage,  and  return  into 
the  house.  When  he  got  opposite  the  door,  he  heard 
the  report  of  a  pistol.  Turned  immediately  round, 
and  saw  the  Count  and  Countess  just  within  the  door. 
The  Countess  said  something  to  the  coachman,  who 
answered,  '  It  is  indoors,  my  lady.'  The  Count  and  lady 
returned  into  the  house.  He  then  heard  some  persons 
screaming,  and  was  going  to  get  some  weapon,  but  coach- 
man begged  him  not  to  go,  and  he  did  not.  The  coach- 
man and  he  were  going  into  the  house,  when  the  Countess 
came  out  of  the  house,  passed  them  and  fell  down. 
Thought  she  had  only  fainted,  and,  while  standing  by 
her,  saw  the  Count  come  out  of  the  house,  with  blood 
streaming  from  his  shoulder.  The  Count  instantly 
returned  into  the  house,  and  immediately  afterwards 
witness  heard  the  report  of  a  pistol  in  one  of  the  upper 
rooms  ;  this  report  occurred  before  the  Count  could 
possibly  get  to  his  own  room.  Some  people  came  up, 
and  he  accompanied  them  into  the  house.  The  first 
thing  he  saw  on  the  floor  of  the  passage  was  a  dagger, 
bloody  and  with  some  silk  on  it,  as  if  it  came  from  a 
shawl ;  on  desiring  a  person  to  go  upstairs  with  him, 
he  refused  without  having  a  weapon,  on  which  witness 


342  LATER  QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

gave  him  the  dagger,  and  himself  took  a  poker.  The 
coachman  followed,  and  the  witness  desired  him  to  go 
first  into  the  room,  which  he  did.  On  entering  the  room, 
he  saw  the  Count  sitting  on  a  bed,  alive,  but  speechless, 
and  Lawrence  lying  on  the  floor  dead,  with  a  brass 
double-barrelled  pistol  close  to  him. 

"  Matthew  Ball,  Surgeon,  of  Barnes,  deposed  that, 
about  a  quarter  past  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a 
woman  came  to  his  house,  and  desired  him  to  come 
immediately  to  Count  d'Antraigues,  for  the  Count  and 
Countess  were  both  murdered ;  immediately  went, 
and  when  he  came  into  the  house^  saw  the  Countess 
lying  on  the  floor  of  the  parlour,  and  a  great  deal  of  blood 
both  on  the  floor  and  on  her  clothes.  Then  examined 
and  found  a  large  lacerated  wound  on  her  right  breast, 
made  by  a  sharp  instrument,  which  had  passed  through 
the  third  and  fourth  ribs  to  the  cavity  of  the  chest,  from 
which  a  great  effusion  of  blood  had  proceeded.  As  soon 
as  he  found  the  wound  was  mortal,  and  that  she  could  not 
live  many  minutes,  witness  went  up  to  the  Count,  to 
assist  Mr.  King,  a  surgeon,  who  had  previously  gone  up 
to  dress  his  wound,  and  found  the  Count  had  received 
a  wound  on  the  shoulder  from  a  sharp  instrument,  which 
had  pentrated  four  inches.  He  was  motionless  and  speech- 
less, and  died  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  his 
(Mr.  B.)  seeing  him.  Saw  two  small  leaden  bullets  in 
the  string-board  of  the  stairs,  which  appeared  to  have 
been  shot  from  a  pistol.  When  he  entered  the  Count's 
room,  saw  Lawrence  lying  on  the  floor  on  his  belly,  with 
a  quantity  of  blood  under  his  face  ;  on  examination, 
found  a  loaded  pistol  had  been  discharged  into  his  mouth, 
the  contents  of  which  had  very  much  lacerated  and  torn 
his   mouth,   and  from  which  wound  he  had  instantly 


MADAME  SAINT-HUBERTY  343 

died,  the  bullet  being  still  lodged  in  the  vertebra  of  the 
neck. 

"  The  Coroner  then  told  the  jury  that,  as  they  had 
not  only  heard  what  the  witnesses  had  sworn,  but  also 
the  depositions  read  over  to  them,  it  was  unnecessary 
for  him  to  go  into  a  recapitulation  thereon.  He  should, 
therefore,  leave  them  to  determine  whether,  from  the 
evidence  they  had  heard,  they  believed,  first  that  Law- 
rence had  murdered  the  Count  and  Countess ;  and, 
secondly,  whether  he  had  committed  suicide,  being  in 
his  senses. 

"  In  about  five  minutes,  the  jury  returned  a  verdict 
that  Lawrence  had  murdered  the  Count  and  Countess, 
and   had   afterwards    committed   suicide,    being   in   his 


senses." 


"  Thus  perished,"  says  M.  Adolphe  Jullien,  "  the 
greatest  lyric  tragedienne  whom  France  has  possessed. 
But  she  did  not  wholly  die  :  the  recollection  of  her 
remains  graven  in  the  mind  of  her  admirers,  and  she 
left  behind  her  a  luminous  trace  of  her  passage  across 
the  stage  of  the  Opera.  Her  generous  influence  con- 
tinued to  make  itself  felt  throughout  long  years  ;  her 
triumphs  excited  many  ambitions,  inflamed  many  resolu- 
tions. She  remained  an  object  of  admiration  and  emula- 
tion for  all  the  artistes,  for  those  who  had  seen  her,  as 
for  those  who,  in  later  times,  knew  her  only  by  renown. 
She  united,  in  fact,  in  the  highest  degree,  two  qualities 
usually  disconnected  :  the  rarest  talent  of  the  singer 
and  the  greatest  art  of  the  tragedienne.  She  was  in  every 
sense  of  the  word  an  artiste  of  genius."  ^ 

^  U  Opera  secret  au  XVIW  Steele  :  Madame  Saint-Huberty. 


INDEX 


AdHe  de  Ponthieu,  incident 
during  a  representation  of, 
69 

Aiguillon,  Due  d',  his  galanterie 
with  Mile.  Raucourt,  159 

Alceste,  Gluck's,  69-75,  7^ 

Alembert,  d',  4,  79,  96,  159 

Alexis  et  Justine,  Madame  Duga- 
zon's  appearance  in,  210 

Allard,  Mile,  {danseuse),  105,  265 

Alleaume  (notary),  Sophie  Ar- 
nould's  letters   to  him,  80-82 

Alopeus  (Swedish  Minister  in 
London),  330 

Amelot  (Minister  of  the  King's 
Household),  292,  294,  300, 
305,    312,    313,    315,    322 

Amis  des  Lois,  les,  scene  during 
the  performance  of,  183 

Amours  des  Dieux,  les,  Sophie 
Arnould's  appearance  in,  15 

Antraigues,  Comte  d',  his  ances- 
try, 320  ;  his  early  life,  321  ;  his 
political  writings,  321  ;  changes 
his  politics,  321  ;  his  relations 
with  Madame  Saint-Huberty, 
322  ;  his  letter  to  her,  322  ; 
takes  refuge  in  Switzerland, 
326  ;  joined  by  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty,  326  ;  marries  her 
secretly,  327  ;  an  active  agent 
of  the  counter-revolution,  328 
and  note  ;  arrested  at  Trieste, 
328  ;  escapes  from  Milan,  329  ; 
establishes  himself  with  his 
wife  in  England,  330  ;  em- 
ployed by  the  Foreign  Office, 
330  ;  assassinated,  with  his 
wife,  by  their  Piedmontese 
servant,  Lorenzo,  331-337  ; 
inquest  upon,   2)27-3^1 


Antraigues,  Comtesse :  d',  see 
Saint-Huberty,   Madame 

Ariane  dans  tile  de  Naxos, 
Madame  Saint-Huberty's  ap- 
pearance in,  286,  287,  299,  300 

Armide,  Gluck's,   107,  266,  275, 

3^3,  Z1-7 

Arnaud,  Abbe,  46 

Arnault,  257 

Arnould  (daughter  of  Sophie 
Arnould),  Alexandrine  Sophie, 
birth,  43  ;  marries  Andre  de 
Murville,  82,  83  ;  her  character, 
83  and  note  ;  ill-treated  by  her 
husband,  83,  84  ;  wishes  to 
join  the  Opera,  84  ;  divorces 
her  husband  and  marries  again, 

89 

Arnould,  Jean  (father  of  Sophie 
Arnould),  a  worthy  man,  4  ; 
declines  to  force  his  daughter 
to  marry  M.  de  Malezieux,  13  ; 
in  financial  straits,  21  ;  takes 
the  Hotel  de  Lisieux,  21  ; 
deceived  by  the  Comte  de 
Lauraguais,  21-23  >  reconciled 
to  his  daughter  after  her  elope- 
ment, 24 

Arnould,  Madame  (mother  of 
Sophie  Arnould ) ,  affects  literary 
society,  4  ;  takes  her  daughter 
to  visit  Madame  de  Pompadour, 
9  ;  dreads  Sophie  joining  the 
Opera,  1 1  ;  favours  the  suit  of 
the  Chevalier  de  Malezieux, 
13  ;  sends  Sophie  to  take 
lessons  from  Miles.  Fel  and 
Clairon,  18  ;  a  vigilant  guar- 
dian, 20,  21  ;  deceived  by  the 
Comte  de  Lauraguais,  21-23  ; 
in  despair  at  her  daughter's 
elopement,  23  ;  reconciled  to 
her  dishonour,  24 


34^ 


INDEX 


Arnould,  Sophie,  birth  and  parent- 
age, 3  and  note,  4  ;   education, 
4 ;    taken  by  the  Princesse  de 
Conti    to    live    with    her,    5  ; 
sings     in     the    choir    of     the 
Ursulines    of    Saint-Denis,    5  ; 
receives  a  letter  from  Voltaire, 
5,   6;   sings   at  the  Abbey  of 
Panthemont,  7  ;    visits  Marie 
Leczinska,  8,  9  ;   and  Madame 
de    Pompadour,    9-1 1  ;      ap- 
pointed a  singer  of  the  Queen's 
Chamber,  11  ;   ordered  to  join 
the   Opera,    1 1  ;     receives   an 
offer    of    marriage    from    the 
Chevalier  de  Malezieux,  12-14; 
her  dSbut  at  the  Opera,  12-14  ', 
her  success  in  La  Provetifale, 
15  ;  in  inee  et  Lavinie,  15,  16; 
and   in   Les  Files  de  Paphos, 
16,    17  ;     her    voice,    17,    18  ; 
her   acting,   18  ;    her  personal 
appearance,  19  and  note,  20  ; 
surrounded  by  soupivants,  20, 
21  ;    her  elopement  with   the 
Comte  de  Lauraguais,  21-24  ; 
her  liaison  with  him,  28,  29  ; 
the  idol  of  the  public,  30  ;  her 
wit,  30-34  ;  leaves  Lauraguais, 
35-37  ;   "  comes  to  an  arrange- 
ment "     with     the     financier 
Bertin,  ^7,  38  ;   bestowing  her 
favours    freely,    38  ;    discards 
Bertin  and  returns  to  Laura- 
guais, 39  ;  stormy  character  of 
their    relations,   40  ;    procures 
Lauraguais's       release       from 
prison,  43  ;   has  a  daughter  by 
him,    43  ;     supplanted    in    his 
affections  by  Mile.  Heinel,  45  ; 
receiving  great  attention  from 
the   Prince  de  Conti,  45   and 
note  ;    leading  an   unedifying 
life,  46  ;  accepts  the  "  protec- 
tion "  of   the  Prince  d'Henin, 
46,  47  ;  her  projected  hotel  in 
the      Chaussee  -  d'Antin,     47  ; 
falls  in  love  with  the  architect 
Belanger,  47,  48  ;    insults  the 
Lieutenant     of     Police,     49  ; 
behaves    with     "  unexampled 
audacity  "  towards  Madame 
du  Barry,  49  and  note  ;    her 
caprices    a    source    of    much 


tribulation  to  the  administra- 
tion of  the  Opera,  49-52  ;   her 
triumphs  as  a  singer,  53,  54  ; 
insufferably     bored     by     the 
Prince  d'Henin,  54,  55  ;  wishes 
to  retire  from  the  Opera,  56  ; 
her   vocal   powers   and   popu- 
larity declining,  56,  57  ;  chosen 
by  Gluck    for   the   name-part 
in   Iphigenie    en  Aulide,    57  ; 
claims  the  right  to  take  liber- 
ties with  the  time  when  singing, 
59-61  ;     her  success   in   Iphi- 
genie en  Aulide,  65  ;    quarrel 
between  Gluck  and  the  Prince 
d'Henin    at    her    house,    66  ; 
her    performance    in    Orphee, 
68  ;       shocks      the     audience 
during  a  performance  of  AdHe 
de  Ponthieu,  6g  ;    passed  over 
by  Gluck  in  favour  of  Rosalie 
Levasseur,    70-72  ;     beUeved 
to    have    joined    a    cabal    to 
ensure  the   failure  of  Alceste, 
72,    y$  ;     her    letter    to    the 
Nouveau    Spectateur,    7^,    74  ; 
the  object  of  hostile   demon- 
stration at  the  Opera,  75,  76  ; 
interference     of     Marie     An- 
toinette in  her  favour,  75,  76  ; 
refuses  to  bow  to  the  storm, 
77  ;    insulted  in  the  garden  of 
title  Palais-Royal,   77,  78  ;  re- 
tires from  the  stage,  78  ;  her 
house  a  rendezvous  for  men  of 
letters,    78  ;     Voltaire's    visit 
to  her,  79  ;  failure  of  Mesmer 
to  cure  her  dog,  79,   80  ;    her 
letters  to  the  notary  Alleaume, 
81,     82  ;      marriage     of     her 
daughter  Alexandrine,  82,  83  ; 
goes     to     live     at     Clichy-la- 
Garenne,  83  ;  her  life  there,  84, 
85  ;  in  financial  dif&culties,  85  ; 
declines  to  prosecute  a  burglar, 
85,  86  ;  attack  of  Champcenetz 
upon    her    in    La    Chronique 
scandaleuse,  86,  87  ;    removes 
from  Clichy  to  Luzarches,  87  ; 
her    description    of    her    new 
home,    8y  ;     receives   a   domi- 
ciliary  visit   from    the     local 
revolutionary   committee,    87, 
88  and  note  ;    her  bon  mot  on 


INDEX 


347 


the  occasion  of  her  daughter's 
second  marriage,  89  ;  be- 
coming poorer  and  poorer,  89, 
90;  befriended  by  Belanger, 
90;  her  letter  to  him,  90,  91  ; 
returns  to  Paris,  91  ;  her  letter 
to  Lauraguais,  92,  93  ;  her 
generosity    the    cause    of    her 

Eoverty,  93  ;  her  letter  to 
ucien  Bonaparte,  94,  95  ;  in 
a  pitiable  condition,  95  ; 
Belanger's  letter  to  Lucien 
Bonaparte  on  her  behalf, 
96,  97  ;  her  death,  97  ;  her 
kindness  to  Mile.  Raucourt, 
170,  171  ;  deserted  by  the 
Prince  d'Henin  for  that  actress, 
177 

Artois,  Comte  d',  casts  a  "  be- 
nevolent glance "  on  Sophie 
Arnould,  69  ;  credited  with  a 
desire  to  participate  in  the 
favours  of  Mile.  Raucourt, 
177  ;  witnesses  the  perform- 
ance of  the  Manage  de  Figaro, 
at  Gennevilliers,  235  ;  be- 
comes the  amant  en  titre  of 
Mile.  Contat,  243  ;  indulges  in 
a  practical  joke  at  her  expense, 
244  ;  obtains  for  her  an  author- 
isation to  play  bivibi  at  her 
house,  244  ;  refuses  to  recog- 
nise his  daughter  by  her,  245  ; 
sends  her  three  thousand  louis 
to  pay  her  debts,  246 

Ashton,  Elizabeth,  her  evidence 
at  the  inquest  upon  the  Comte 
and    Comtesse    d'Antraigues, 

339 
Atys,  Piccini's,  288,  313 


Bachaumont,  319;  (cited)  49 
note,  52,  53,  III 

Bajazet,  Mile.  Contat's  appear- 
ance in,  226 

Balbatri  (musician),  6 

Ball,  Matthew  (surgeon),  his 
evidence  at  the  inquest  on  the 
Comte  and  Comtesse  d'An- 
traigues, 342,  343 

Barbier  de  Seville,  Beaumar- 
chais's,  188,  231 


Beaumarchais,  a  visitor  at  Sophie 
Arnould's  house,  79  ;  his 
manoeuvres  to  stimulate  public 
interest  in  his  Mariage  de 
Figaro,  2-^0  ;  enables  the  Comte 
de  Vaudreuil  to  win  a  wager, 

230  note  ;  chooses  Mile.  Con- 
tat for  the  part  of  Suzanne, 

231  ;  performance  of  his 
Mariage  de  Figaro  at  Theatre 
des  Menus-Plaisirs  forbidden 
by  Louis  XVI. ;  his  diplomacy, 
233  ;  his  play  performed  at 
Gennevilliers,  235  ;  reads  it 
to  an  audience  selected 
by  the  Baron  de  Breteuil, 
236,  237  ;  production  of  the 
Mariage  de  Figaro  at  Comedie- 
Franfaise,  237-240 

Beaumesnil,  Mile,  (singer),  13^ 
52 

Beaumesnil,  Christophe  de  (Arch- 
bishop of  Paris)  objects  to  the 
opening  of  Mile.  Guimard's 
private  theatre  in  the  Chaussee- 
d'Antin,  121  ;  persuades  Louis 
XVI.  to  forbid  a  fete  at  her 
hotel,   121,   122 

Beauvau,  Princesse  de,  152  note, 

157 
Belanger  (architect),  designs  an 

hotel  for  Sophie  Arnould  in 
the  Chaussee-d'Antin,  47  ;  be- 
comes her  amant  de  casnr,  48  ; 
his  practical  joke  at  the 
expense  of  the  actor  Florence, 
48  ;  wishful  to  marry  Sophie, 
48  ;  narrowly  escapes  the 
guillotine,  89  ;  marries  Mile. 
Dervieux,  of  the  Opera,  89  ; 
his  kindness  to  Sophie  Arnould 
during  her  last  years,  90  ; 
her  letters  to  him,  90,  91  ; 
his  letter  to  Lucien  Bonaparte 
on  her  behalf,  96,  97 

Bernis,  Abbe  (afterwards  Car- 
dinal) de,  4 

Bernard,  Marie  Anne  (mother  of 
Mile.  Guimard),  loi,  102,  104, 
105. 

Bertin  (farmer-general)  "  comes 
to  an  arrangement "  with 
Sophie  Arnould,  S7  ',  presents 
her    to    his   friends,    38 ;    his 


348 


INDEX 


generosity  powerless  to  gain 
her  afiection,  38  ;  discarded  by 
Sophie,  39 ;  indemnified  by 
the  Comte  de  Lauraguais,  39  ; 
furnishes  a  handsome  apart- 
ment for  Mile.  Guimard,  105  ; 
supplanted  in  her  affections 
by  M.  de  BoutourUn,  108 

Berton  (director  of  the  Opera), 
53  note 

Bi^vre,  Marquis  de,  first  amant  en 
titre  of  Mile.  Raucourt,  159  and 
note,  160 

Billington,  Miss  (singer),  213 

Black,  Susannah,  her  evidence  at 
the  inquest  on  the  Comte  and 
Comtesse    d'Antraigues,    337- 

339 
Blaise  et  Babet,  Madame  Duga- 

zon's     performance     in,     209, 

210  ;     played   at   Trianon    by 

Marie     Antoinette     and     her 

friends,   209,   210 
Boieldieu   (cited),   208 
Bompas,  commits  a  burglary  at 

Sophie     Arnould's     house     at 

Clichy,  85  ;    pardoned  by  her, 

86 
Bonaparte,   Lucien,    Sophie   Ar- 
nould's    letter     to     him,    94, 

95  ;     promises    her    a    benefit 

performance  at  the  Opera,  95  ; 

Belanger's  letter  to  him  on  her 

behalf,  96,  97 
Boucher  (painter),  10 
Boudreau    (financier),    lover    of 

Madame  Dugazon,  205,  206 
Boufflers,  Chevalier  de,  53  note 
Bouillon,  Due  de,   32,   320  note 
Bouilly,   217,   221,     (cited)    207, 

212 
Bourbon,    Due   de,   his  offer  to 

Mile.  Raucourt,  156 
Boutin  (financier),  lends  money 

to  Sophie   Arnould,   85 
BoutouriUn,  M.  de,  lover  of  Mile. 

Guimard,  108 
Boynes     (Minister     of     Marine), 

Sophie   Arnould's   bon  mot  at 

his  expense,   34 
Brancas,    Constant    de    (son    of 

Sophie  Arnould  and  Comte  de 

Luuraguais),  91 
Brizard  (actor),  trains  Mile.  Rau- 


court for  the  stage,  147  and 
note  ;  his  speech  on  the  even- 
ing of  her  debut  at  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise,  148  ;  attacked  by 
the  enemies  of  the  actress,  176 
Breteuil,  Baron  de,  opposed  to 
the  production  of  Beaumar- 
chais's     Mariage    de     Figaro, 

235  ;    his  opposition  overcome 
by  Beaumerchais's  tact,   235, 

236  ;   engages  Piccini  to  come 
to  Paris,  295 

Burney,  Dr.  (cited),  44  note 


Cabanis  (physician),  323 
Camille,  ou  le  souterrain,  Madame 

Dugazon's  success  in,  216 
Campan,  Madame  (cited),  168 
Campardon,   6mile  (cited),    loi, 

109,  124,  208,  210,  212 
Canning,  George,  331 
Caprices   de   Galathee,   les.   Mile. 

Guimard's  triumph  in,    124 
Castil-Blaze  (cited),   3  note,  91, 

304 

Castor  et  Pollux,  Rameau's,  ^2^ 
51,  52 

Cazes,  M.  de,  lover  of  Madame 
Dugazon  ;  compelled  by  Du- 
gazon to  surrender  his  wife's 
letters  and  portrait,  202,  203  ; 
caned  by  Dugazon  at  the 
Comedie-Italienne,  203,  204 

Champcenetz,  his  attack  on 
Sophie  Arnould  in  La  Chro- 
nique  scandaleuse,  86 

Champfort,  236 

Chasse  (singer),  6 

Chartres,  Duo  de,  64,  120 

Chartres,  Duchesse  de,  64 

Chesterfield,  Earl  of,  67 

Chevalier,  Mile,  (singer),  6 

Chimcne,  Sacchini's,  308 

Choiseul,  Due  de,  Sophie  Ar- 
nould's bon  mot  about  him, 
34  ;  releases  Lauraguais  from 
prison  on  her  petition,  42 

Choiseul-Praslin,  Duo  de,  34 

Clairon,  Mile.,  gives  Sophie  Ar- 
nould lessons  in  acting,  18  ; 
her  pension  compared  with 
that   of   Sophie   Arnould,   78 


INDEX 


349 


trains  Mile.  Raucourt  for  the 
stage,  147  and  note 

Clytemnestre,  Comte  de  Laura- 
guais's,  35  note 

Cleophile,  Mile.,  160 

Colasse  (composer),  1 5  note 

Colle,  112,  120,  (cited)  17,  24, 
26  note 

CoUette,  Mile.,  108 

Contat,  Amalrie  (daughter  of 
Louise  Contat  and  the  Comte 
d'Artois),    245,    261 

Contat,  Emilie,   252 

Contat,  Louise,  her  parentage, 
225  and  note  ;  adopted  and 
trained  for  the  stage  by  the 
Previlles,  225  ;  her  debut  at 
the  Coraedie-Fran9aise,  226  ; 
her  success  in  comedy,  226  ; 
cabal  formed  against  her  at 
the  theatre,  226,  227  ;  her 
success  as  Rosalie  in  Les 
Courtisanes,  228,  229  ;  and 
as  Sophie  in  Le  vieux  gargon, 
229,  230  ;  chosen  by  Beau- 
marchais  for  the  part  of 
Suzanne  in  his  Mariage  de 
Figaro,  231  ;  her  triumph  in 
this  part,  239,  240  ;  her 
personal  appearance,  240  ;  her 
liaison  with  the  Chevalier  de 
Lubsac,  240-242  ;  rejects  the 
advances  of  a  wealthy  financier, 
242  ;  squandering  the  patri- 
mony of  the  Marquis  de 
Maupeou,  242,  243 ;  discards 
him  in  favour  of  the  Comte 
d'Artois,  243  ;  her  ruse  to 
stimulate  the  latter's  gene- 
rosity, 243,  244  ;  authorised  to 
play  hiribi  at  her  house,  244  ; 
has  a  daughter,  245 ;  abandoned 
by  the  Comte  d'Artois,  245  ; 
her  relations  with  Desentelles 
and  the  actor  Fleury,  245  ;  in 
financial  difficulties,  245,  246  ; 
adventure  with  Prince  Henry 
of  Prussia,  246-248  ;  her 
success  in  Les  Deux  Pages, 
248,  249  ;  inimitable  in  high 
comedy,  249,  250  ;  her  triumphs 
in  the  provinces,  250  ;  verses 
addressed  to  her  by  a  blind 
admirer,   251  ;    her  imperious 


character,  251  ;  her  quarrel 
with  Alexandre  Duval,  251  ; 
unable  to  endure  a  rival  on  the 
stage,  251,  252  ;  her  efforts  on 
behalf  of  her  sister  6milie 
Contat,  282  ;  her  attachment 
to  Marie  Antoinette,  252,  253  ; 
escapes  the  guillotine,  283  ; 
enthusiasm  aroused  by  her  at 
Bordeaux,  253,  254  ;  her 
popularity  in  society,  254, 
255;  her  qualities  as  an  hostess , 
255  ;  her  wit,  255,  256;  her 
magnanimity,  256  ;  her  attrac- 
tion for  men  of  letters,  256- 
258  ;  Napoleon  an  admirer  of 
her  acting,  258  ;   her  marriage, 

258  ;   her  last  appearance,  258, 

259  ;  her  illness  and  death, 
259-261  ;  her  daughter  Amalrie 
Contat,  261 

Conti,  Prince  de,  pays  assiduous 
attentions  to  Sophie  Arnould, 
43  ;  invites  her  to  his  box  at 
the  Opera,  45  ;  "  wishes  her 
to  be  entirely  his  own,"  45 
note  ;  gives  her  a  pension, 
80  note 

Conti,  Princesse  de,  takes  Sophie 
Arnould  to  live  with  her,  5  ; 
suggests  that  she  shall  sing  at 
the  Abbey  of  Panthemont  in 
Holy  Week,  7  ;  embarrassed  by 
Madame  de  Pompadour's  desire 
to  see  Sophie,  9 ;  endeavours  to 
conceal   Sophie  in  a  convent, 

11,  12;  encourages  the  suit 
of  the  Chevalier  de  Malezieux, 

12,  13 

Cour  du  Roi  PHaud,  la,  Comte  de 
Lauraguais,  25,  26  and  note 

Courtisanes,  les,  anecdote  about 
its  rejection  by  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise,  228,  229  ;  Mile. 
Contat's  performance  in,   229 

Crebillon  fits,  46 


D 

Dalayrac   (composer),   210,   211, 

212,  213,  217 
Danaides,  Salieri's,  308,  309 
Dangevilie,  Mile.,  226,  239 


350 


INDEX 


Dardanus,  Sophie  Amould's  per- 
formance in,  42,  50,  51 

Dauberval  (dancer),  one  of  the 
lovers  of  Mile.  Guimard,  113 
note 

Dauvergne  (director  of  the 
Opera),  126,  127,  311,  313, 
315,  318,  322,  324,  325 

David,  Jaques  Louis  (painter). 
Mile.  Guimard's  kindness  to 
him,  118,  119 

Dervieux,  Mile.,  90,   116,   121 

Desentelles  (Intendant  of  the 
Menus- Plaisirs),  245 

Des  Essarts  (actor),  183 

Desfaucherets,  257 

Despreaux,  Jean  fetienne,  his 
parody  of  Ernelinde  per- 
formed at  Mile.  Guimard's 
hotel  in  the  Chaussee-d'Antin, 
122  ;  and  before  the  Court  at 
Choisy,  122  J  receives  a  pension 
from  Louis  XVI.,  122;  marries 
Mile.  Guimard,  136,  137  ;  his 
career,  136  note  ;  loses  his 
pensions    at    the    Revolution, 

138  ;  becomes  stage-manager 
at  the  Opera,  138  ;  resigns  his 
post,    138  ;    his   Passe-Temps, 

139  ;  celebrates  his  wife's 
charms  in  verse,  139  ;  ap- 
pointed inspector  of  the  Opera 
and  the  theatre  of  the  Tuileries, 
1 39  ;  dances  with  his  wife, 
140 

Desnoiresterres,  Gustave  (cited), 

58.71 
Devin   du     Village,    Sophie    Ar- 

nould's  performance  in,  54  note 
Devismes  (director  of  the  Opera), 

282 
Devonshire,     Elizabeth     Caven- 
dish, Duchess  of,  her  friend- 
ship for  Mile.  Guimard,  135 
Deux  Pages,  les,  246-249 
Dezede  (composer),  247,  248 
Diderot,  4,  (cited)  27,  28,  35,  36 
Didon,  Le  Franc  de  Pompignan's, 

148,  149,  151,  152,  171,  172 
Didon,    Piccini's,    296-306,    307, 

308,  309,  312 
Douglas,  Mr.  R.  B.  (cited),   14, 

54,  66,  88,  97 
Dode  de  Jousserand,  libels  the 


administration  of  the  Opera, 
276 

Dorat  (poet),  46,  124,  125 

Drais,  Claude  (goldsmith),  marries 
the  daughter  of  Mile.  Guimard 
and  La  Borde,  109,  no 

Du  Barry,  Madame,  "  unex- 
ampled audacity  "  of  Sophie 
Arnould  towards,  49  and 
note ;  does  not  attend  the  first 
performance  of  Iphiginie  en 
Aulide,  64  ;  compared  with 
Mile.  Guimard,  114;  sends 
two  kisses  to  Voltaire,  121  ; 
presents  Mile.  Raucourt  with 
a  robe  de  thedtre,  152 

Dubois,  Antoine  (surgeon),  260 

Ducis,  his  adaptations  of  Shake- 
speare, 258  and  note 

Duclos,  79 

Du  Hausset  (femtne  de  chamhre 
to  Madame  de  Pompadour),  9 

Dumesnil,  Mile.,  150,  161 

Duplant,  Mile.,  y2,  note 

Duranceray,  Mile.,  266,  277 

Duras,  Due  de,  his  quarrel  with 
Mile.  Sainval  the  elder,  169, 
170 ;  causes  those  who  hiss 
Mile.  Raucourt  to  be  arrested, 
173  ;  satirised  in  La  Vision  du 
pr ophite  Daniel,  176 

Duthe,  Mile.,  121 

Duval,  Alexandre,  his  quarrel 
with  Mile.  Contat,  251 

Dugazon,  Gustave  (son  of  Madame 
Dugazon),  22,  121  and  note 

Dugazon,  Louis  (actor),  marries 
Louise  Lefevre,  199  ;  his 
singular  character,  200 ;  in- 
sults Marie  Antoinette  at  an 
Opera-ball,  201  ;  quarrels  with 
his  wife,  202  ;  forces  M.  de 
Cazes  to  surrender  his  wife's 
letters,  202,  203  ;  canes  him  at 
the  Comedie-Italienne,  203, 
204  ;  his  affray  with  the 
Marquis  de  Langeac,  205  ; 
resigns  himself  to  his  wife's 
infidehty,  205  ;  his  conduct 
during  the  Revolution,  219 
note  ;   his  death,  219  note 

Dugazon,  Madame,  birth  and 
parentage,  197  ;  makes  her 
dibut  at  the  Comedie-Italienne, 


INDEX 


351 


197  ;  attracts  the  attention 
of  Gretry,  197  ;  receives 
lessons   from    Justine   Favart, 

198  ;  her  gratitude  to  her, 
198  ;  her  success  in  Sylvain, 
198;  other  successes,  198; 
idoUscd  by  the  pubUc,  199  j 
surrounded  by  adorers,  199  ; 
marries  Dugazon,  of  the 
Comedie-Fran^aise,  199 ;  quar- 
rels with  her  husband,  201, 
202  ;  her  liaison  with  M. 
dc  Cazes,  202-204  ;  with  the 
Marquis  de  Langeac,  204,  205  ; 
with  the  financier  Boudreau, 
205  ;  and  with  Garat,  206  ; 
her  talent,  207  ;  greater  as  an 
actress  than  a  singer,  208  ;  her 
success  in  Blaise  et  Babet,  209  ; 
in  Alexis  et  Justine,  210  ;  and 
in  Le  Dot,  210,  211  ;  her 
brilliant  triumph  in  Nina,  on 
la  Folle  par  amour,  211-214  ; 
receives  a  magnificent  recep- 
tion at  Lyons,  214,  215  ;  goes 
to  England,  215,  216  ;  returns 
to  the  Comedie-Italienne,  216  ; 
abandons  juvenile  heroines 
for  young  matrons,  216  ;  her 
amiable  qualities,  216,  217  ; 
her  generosity,  217,  218  ;  a 
Royalist  to  the  core,  218, 
219  ;  incident  during  a  per- 
formance of  Les  ivinements 
imprevus,  in  1792,  219,  220  ; 
retires  temporarily  from  the 
Comedie-Italienne,  220  ;  re- 
turns to  the  stage,  220 ;  her 
joy  at  the  Restoration,  220  ; 
her  audience  of  Louis  XVIII. 
at  Saint-Ouen,  221  ;  her  affec- 
tion for  her  son  Gustave,  221  ; 
her  death,  221 


Edwards,  Mr.  Sutherland  (cited), 
37  note,  145 

Electre,  Lemoine's,  285 

Elliot.  Mrs.,  219 

Embarrass  des  richesses,  I', 
Madame  Saint-Huberty's  suc- 
cess in,  288  and  note  ;  its 
ridiculous  libretto,  288,  289 


]&nSe  et  Lavinie,  Sophie  Arnould's 
appearance  in,  15,  16 

Espion  Anglais,  I',  (cited)  20 

Euthyme  et  Lyris,  Sophie  Ar- 
nould's appearance  in,  75 

Etioles,  Alexandrine  d',  10 


Fausse  Lord,  le,  incident  during 
a  performance  of,  302  note 

Favart,  Charles  Simon  (cited), 
27  note 

Favart,  Justine,  gives  lessons  to 
Madame  Dugazon,   190 

Fleury,  not  indifferent  to  the 
charms  of  Mile.  Contat,  245  ; 
attempts  to  pacify  her  creditors, 
245  ;  always  her  faithful  and  de- 
voted friend,  246  ;  his  masterly 
impersonation  of  Frederick  the 
Great  in  Les  Deux  Pages,  249 
and  note  ;  arrested  and  im- 
prisoned in  the  Madelonettes, 
184  ;  saved  by  Labussiere, 
184-186;  plays  with  Mile. 
Contat  at  Bordeaux,  254  ; 
(cited),  134,  158,  182,  184,  225, 
227,  236,  237,  238,  249  note, 
259-261 

Fontenelle,  4,  15  and  note 

Forbes,  Lord,  25 

Fouche,  337 

Fouquier-Tinville,    184,    185 

Fragonard  (painter)  plays  a 
practical  joke  on  Mile.  Gui- 
mard,  119 

Francoeur  (musician),   59.   138 

Frederick  the  Great,  179,  248, 
249 

Freron,  14,  230 

Fronsac,  Due  de,  21,  232 


Gaboriau  6mile,  (cited)  114, 
148,  198,  232,  282,  288,  303, 
308 

Gaillard,  Gabriel  Henri,  his 
report  to  the  Government  on 
Beaumarchais's  Mariage  de 
Figaro,  233,  234 

Garrick,  David,  anecdote  of, 
2  30   note 


35^ 


INDEX 


Gauthier-Villars,  M.,  80 

Gavaudan,  Mile,  (singer),   316 

Geoffrin,  Madame,  1 1 1 

GeoflEroy  (critic),  his  criticisms  of 
Mile.  Contat's  acting,  258 

Gluck,  invited  to  Paris  by  Marie 
Antoinette,  57  ;  chooses  Sophie 
Arnould  for  the  name-part  in 
Iphigenie  en  Aulide,  57  ;  diffi- 
culties with  which  he  has  to 
contend,  57-62  ;  his  quaint 
behaviour  at  rehearsals,  62, 
63  ;  refuses  to  consent  to  a 
postponement  of  Iphigenie, 
62  ',  success  of  his  opera,  66  ; 
adapts  Orfeo  for  the  Paris  stage, 
66  ;  his  quarrel  with  the 
Prince  d'Henin  at  Sophie 
Arnould's  house,  66-68  ;  pro- 
duction of  his  Orphee,  68  ; 
failure  of  his  Cythere  assiegee, 
68,  69  ;  gives  lessons  in  singing 
to  Rosalie  Levasseur,  70  ; 
chooses  her  for  the  part  of 
Alceste  in  preference  to  Sophie 
Arnould,  71,  72;  is  "the 
musician  of  the  soul,"  y^  ; 
attacked  in  Le  Nouveau  Spec- 
tateuv,  75  ;  disgraceful  treat- 
ment of  Sophie  Arnould  by  his 
supporters,  75,  76  ;  his  tribute 
to  Sophie  Arnould's  talent, 
96 ;  his  prediction  concerning 
Madame  Saint-Huberty,  266  ; 
gives  her  lessons,  274,  275 
and  note  ;  obtains  a  post  for 
her  husband,  276  ;  his  contest 
with    Piccini.    295,    296 

Goncourt,  Edmond  and  Jules  de, 
(cited)  18,  60 

Gretry  (composer),  197,  198, 
288  ;  (cited)   59,  60,   208 

Greuze  (painter),  his  portrait  of 
Sophie  Arnould,  19 

Guadagni  (singer),  66 

Grimm  (cited),  43,  44,  65,  68,  1 14, 
123,  148,  149,  152  and  note, 
154,  161,  163,  164,  173,  180, 
209,  210,  213,  229,  302  and 
note,   304 

Guemenee,      Prince      de,      130, 

131 
Guichard,  lampoons  Sophie  Ar- 
nould, 71,  72 


Guimard,  Fabien  (father  of  Mile. 
Guimard),  loi,  102 

Guimard,  Marie  Madeleine,  birth 
and  parentage,  loi,  112  ;  edu- 
cation, 103  ;  joins  the  corps 
de  ballet  of  the  Comedie-Fran- 
9aise,  103  ;  her  liaison  with 
the  dancer  Leger,  104,  105  ; 
and  with  the  financier  Bertin, 
105  ;  makes  her  debut  at  the 
Opera,  105  ;  her  success  in 
Castor  et  Pollux,  105,  106  ; 
growing  in  favour,  106  ;  her 
dancing  "  the  poetry  of  mo- 
tion," 106,  107  ;  her  personal 
appearance,  107,  108  ;  her 
adorers,  108  ;  her  liaison  with 
La  Borde,  108,  109  ;  marriage 
of  her  daughter  by  him,  109, 
1 10  ;  accepts  the  "  protection  " 
of  the  Prince  de  Soubise,  no  ; 
unrivalled  in  magnificence,  no, 
III;  her  appearance  at  Long- 
champs,  III;  her  suppers, 
III;  her  theatre  at  Pantin, 
112,  113  ;  Jarente,  Bishop  of 
Orleans,  becomes  her  lover, 
113;  and  allows  her  to  con- 
trol the  feuille  des  benefices, 
114;  her  generosity,  1 14-1 16  ; 
her  hotel  in  the  Chaussee 
d'Antin,  116-118;  befriends 
Jacques  Louis  David,  the 
painter,  118,  119  ;  Fragonard's 
practical  joke  at  her  expense, 
119;  inauguration  of  her 
private  theatre  in  the  Chaussee 
d'Antin,  119;  compelled  to 
give  La  Borde  his  conge,  120, 
121;  fete  at  her  hotel  forbidden 
by  Louis  XVI.,  121,  122  ;  her 
triumph  in  La  Chercheuse 
d' esprit,  123;  and  in  Ninette  a 
la  Cour,  124  ;  other  successes, 
124  ;  Dorat's  verses  to  her, 
124,  125  ;  the  cause  of  much 
trouble  to  the  administra- 
tion of  the  Opera,  125-128  ; 
receives  a  pension,  128  ;  has 
a   narrow   escape   of   his   life, 

128  ;   in  the  fire  at  the  Opera- 
House     in     the     Haymarket, 

129  ;     has    her    arm    broken, 
129  ;       resigns     the     pension 


INDEX 


353 


allowed  her  by  the  Prince  de 
Soubise,  129-131  ;  disposes  of 
her  hotel  in  the  Chaussee- 
d'Antin  by  lottery,  132,  133  ; 
her  visits  to  England,  134, 
135  ;  caricature  of  her,  136  ; 
marries  Jean  litienne  Des- 
preaux,  136-138  ;  loses  her 
pensions  during  the  Revolution, 
138  ;  goes  to  live  at  Mont- 
martre,  138,  139  ;  her  charms 
celebrated  by  her  husband  in 
verse,  139  ;  her  last  per- 
formance, 145  ;  her  "theatre," 
140,  141  ;  her  death,  141 
Guimard,  Marie  Madeleine  the 
younger,  her  birth,  109  ;  ac- 
knowledged by  her  parents, 
109  ;  her  marriage,  109,  no  ; 
her  mother's  grief  at  her  death, 
no 


H 

Hawkins,  Mr.   Frederick,  (cited) 

145  note,   258   note 
Hebditch,  David,  his  evidence  at 

the  inquest  on  the  Comte  and 

Comtesse    d'Antraigues,    339- 

141 
Heinel,     Mile,      {danseuse),     her 

debut     at     the     Opera,     43  ; 

Grimm's   enthusiasm   for  her, 
j    44  ;    her  visit  to  England,  44 

note  ;  mistress  of  the  Comte  de 

Lauraguais,   45 
Henriette,  Mile.  Raucourt's,  178- 

181 
Henry  of  Prussia,  Prince,  Mile. 

Contat's  adventure  with  him, 

246-248 
Hitchin,   William,   his    evidence 

at  the  inquest  on  the  Comte 

and     Comtesse    d'Antraigues, 

341.  342 

Holbach,  Baron  d',  96 

Huet  (actor),  harangues  Louis 
XVIII.  on  the  day  of  Mile. 
Raucourt's  funeral,  192 

Fus,  Mile.,  38 

Henin,  Prince  d',  becomes  amant 
en  titve  to  Sophie  Arnould,  46 
bores     her     insufierably,     54 
a      victim     of      the      "  inex 


tinguishable  humour  "  of  the 
Comte  de  Lauraguais,  54,  55  ; 
his  quarrel  with  Gluck  at 
Sophie  Arnould's  house,  66- 
67  ;  compelled  to  apologise  to 
the  composer,  67, 68  ;  threatens 
the  directors  of  the  Opera 
with  corporal  punishment,  72  ; 
guillotined,  89  ;  one  of  Mile. 
Raucourt's  warmest  partisans, 
171  ;  deserts  Sophie  Arnould 
for  her,  177,  178  ;  assists  her 
to  outwit  her  creditors,  178  ; 
bitterly  attacked  in  La  Vision 
du  prophdte  Daniel,  176 


Iphigenie  en  Aulide,  Gluck's, 
57,  58,  62-66,  68,  69,  71  and 
note,  76,  96 

Iphigenie  en  Tauvide,  Piccini's, 
32,  284  and  note,  296 


Jal,  Auguste  (cited),   145,  226 
Jarente,  Bishop  of  Orleans,   his 
liaison    with    Mile.    Guimard, 

ii,  113.  114 

Jeliotte  (singer),  6 

Joly,  Mile..  187 

Joly  de  Fleury  (advocate-gen- 
eral), his  dispute  with  the 
Comte  de  Lauraguais,  40,  41 

Journal  de  Paris,  le  (cited),  171, 
259,  286 

JuUien,  M.  Adolphe  (cited),  308, 
309  note,  343 


La  Borde,  Jean  Benjamin  de, 
makes  alterations  in  the  music 
of  Amadis  de  Gaule,  53  note  ; 
lover  of  Mile.  Guimard,  109  ; 
his  character,  1 09  ;  his  Pensees 
et  Maximes,  109  note  ;  his 
daughter  by  her,  109  ;  sup- 
planted as  titular  protector 
by  the  Prince  de  Soubise,  no  ; 
but  remains  her  amant  de 
cceur,  110;  given  his  conge,  120, 
121  ;  goes  to  visit  Voltaire, 
121 


354 


INDEX 


Labussi^re,  Charles  de,  destroys 
the  accusatory  documents  re- 
lating to  the  imprisoned  actors 
of  the  Com6die  -  Fran9aise, 
184-186 

La  Ferte  (Intendant  of  the 
Menus  Plaisirs),  127,  132, 
291,  292,  300,  305,  306,  312, 
313,  324.  32s 

Laguerre,  Mile.,  her  liaison  with 
the  Due  de  Bouillon,  32  and 
320 ;  Sophie  Arnould's  bons 
mots  about  her,   32 

La  Harpe  (cited),  76  note,  163, 
168,  173,  174,  180 

Lalande    (composer),    7 

Langeac,  Marquis  de,  lover  of 
Madame  Dugazon,  204  ;  his 
affray  with  her  husband,  204, 
205 

Larive  (actor),  187 

Larrivee  (singer),  61,  70,  275 

La  Tour  (painter),  his  portrait 
of  Sophie  Arnould,  19 

Lau,  Comtesse  de,   133 

Lauraguais,  Comte  de,  takes 
up  his  residence,  under  an 
assumed  character,  at  the 
Arnoulds'  hotel,  21,  22  ; 
elopes  with    Sophie    Arnould, 

23  ;    his  letter  to  her  parents, 

24  ;  his  eccentric  character, 
24,  25  ;  anecdotes  about 
him,  25-27  ;  his  liaison  with 
Sophie  Arnould,  28,  29  ;  dis- 
carded by  her,  35,  36  ;  her 
letter  to  him,  36,  27  ;  resump- 
tion of  their  relations,  39,  40  ; 
his  Memoire  sur  I'inoculation, 

40,  41  ;    imprisoned  at  Metz, 

41,  42  ;  his  release  procured 
by  Sophie  Arnould,  42  ; 
separated  from  his  wife,  42, 
43  ;  indulging  in  "  passades," 
43  ;  purchases  the  favours  of 
Mile.  Heinel,  45  ;  "a  charm- 
ing instance  of  his  inex- 
tinguishable humour,"  52- 
54  ;  in  exile,  89  ;  Sophie 
Arnould's  letter  to  him,  in 
1797,  92,  93 ;  befriends  her 
in   her    poverty  and   old   age, 

93 
La   Vauguyon,   Due   de,   Sophie 


Arnould's  bon  mot  about  him, 

33^  34 

La  VrilUere,  Due  de,  ^7'  62 

Lebrun :    see  Vigee  Lebrun 

Le  Doux  (architect),   119 

Legouve,  Ernest,  187  ;  (cited) 
257  note 

Legros  (singer),  61,  63,  68,  71, 
74.  27  s 

Le  Maure,  Mile,  (singer),  17  and 
note 

Lemercier,  257  and  note 

Lemierre,   257 

Lemoine  (composer),  his  kindness 
to  Madame  Saint  -  Huberty 
when  a  child,  267,  268  ;  her 
efforts  on  behalf  of  his 
^lectre,  285  ;  his  Phedre  given 
precedence  over  Sacchini's 
(Edipe,  310  ;  ruse  by  which 
its  success  is  secured,  311 

Levacher  de  Chamois,  (cited)  286 

Levasseur,  Rosalie,  a  bitter  rival 
of  Sophie  Arnould,  57  j  in- 
fatuation of  Mercy-Argenteau 
for  her,  69,  70  ;  receives 
lessons  from  Gluck,  70  ;  per- 
suades him  to  entrust  her 
with  the  part  of  Alceste  in 
preference  to  Sophie  Arnould, 
70,  71  ;  causes  a  disgraceful 
lampoon  to  be  circulated  about 
Sophie,  71,  72  ;  attacked  in 
Le  Nouveau  Spectateur,  74  ; 
not  satisfactory  as  Armide  in 
Sacchini's  Renaud,  289  ;  her 
talent  on  the  wane,  291  ; 
doubles  Madame  Saint-Hu- 
berty  as  Armide,   317 

Ligne,  Prince  de,  a  visitor  at 
Sophie  Arnould's  house,  79  ; 
secures  the  release  of  Mile. 
Raucourt  from  For  I'fiveque, 
166 

Louis  XIV.,  his  gastronomic 
feats,  30,  31  and  note 

Louis  XV.,  satirised  by  the 
Comte  de  Lauraguais  in  La 
Cour  du  Roi  Petaud,  25, 
26  and  note  ;  fears  Sophie 
Arnould's  wit,  31  ;  regards 
Lauraguais  as  a  public  nuis- 
ance, 41  ;  admires  Sophie 
Arnould's  singing  in  Dardanus, 


INDEX 


355 


42  ;  compliments  and  rewards 
Mile.  Raucourt,  151;  reported 
to  have  enjoyed  that  lady's 
favours,  159 

Louis  XVI., attends  the  first  per- 
formance of  Iphigenie  en 
Aulide,  64  ;  forbids  a  fete  at 
Mile.  Guimard's  hotel,  122  ; 
amused  by  Despreaux's  parody 
of  Ernelinde,  122;  "  led  by  the 
nose  "  by  Marie  Antoinette, 
168  ;  orders  Dugazon  to  insult 
the  Queen  at  an  Opera-ball, 
201  ;  pronounces  the  Mariage 
de  Figaro  "  detestable  "  and 
"  unactable,"  230  ;  forbids 
its  performance  at  the  The- 
atre des  Menus-Plaisirs,  232  ; 
causes  six  censors  to  be  ap- 
pointed to  examine  it,  237  ; 
delighted  with  Piccini's  Didon, 
300 

Louis  XVIIL,  gives  audience  to 
Madame  Dugazon  at  Saint- 
Ouen,    218 

Lourdet  de  Sans-Terre,  extra- 
ordinary anachronisms  com- 
mitted by  him  in  the  libretto 
of  I'Embarras  des  richesses, 
288,  289 

Lubomirska,  Princess,  befriends 
Madame  Saint  -  Huberty  at 
Warsaw,  272,  274 

Lubsac,  ChevaUer  de,  first  lover 
of  Mile.  Contat,  240  ;  anec- 
dote about  him,  241,  242 

Lulli  (composer),  15 

M 

Maillard,  Mile.,  305,  316 

Maisonneuve,  257 

Malezieux,  Chevalier  de,  a  suitor 
for  Sophie  Arnould's  hand,  12  ; 
his  pretensions  encouraged  by 
the  Princess  de  Conti,  13  ; 
offers  to  settle  all  his  property 
on  Sophie,  13  ;  takes  to  his 
bed  on  learning  of  her  elope- 
ment with  Lauraguais,  23 

Marat,  88  and  note,  183 

Marais  (inspector  of  police),  10 1, 
103 

Marie     Antoinette,     Queen     of 


France,  invites  Gluck  to  Paris, 
57  ;  supports  him  against  the 
rebellious  artistes  of  the  Opera, 
63  ;  in  great  alarm  for  his 
success,  64  ;  attends  the  first 
performance  of  Iphigenie  en 
Aulide,  64  and  note  ;  com- 
mands the  Prince  d'Henin  to 
apologise  to  the  composer, 
67  ;  intervenes  on  behalf  of 
Sophie  Arnould,  75,  77  ;  Mile. 
Raucourt  presented  to  her, 
151;  espouses  the  cause  of  this 
actress  against  her  enemies, 
171  ;  plays  in  Blaise  et  Babet 
at  Trianon,  209  ;  incident 
during  her  last  appearance  at 
the  play,  219  ;  supports  Mile. 
Vanhove  against  the  Contats, 
252  ;  Mile.  Contat's  attach- 
ment to  her,  252,  253  ;  gives 
Lemoine's  Phedre  precedence 
over  the  CEdipe  of  Sacchini, 
310 

Marie  Leczinska,  Queen  of 
France,  Sophie  Arnould's  visit 
to  her,  8,  9 ;  makes  Sophie 
one  of  the  singers  of  her 
chamber,  1 1 

Marivaux.  249 

Marmontel,  a  visitor  at  Sophie 
Arnould's  house,  79  ;  writes 
the  libretto  of  Sylvain.  198  ; 
secures  a  pension  for  Piccini, 
2q8  ;  writes  the  libretto  of 
Piccini's  Didoyt,  297  ;  Madame 
Saint-Huberty  sings  her  part 
at  his  country-house,  297  ; 
kneels  at  her  feet  after  the 
first  performance  of  Didon, 
301  ;  writes  the  libretto  of 
Penelope,  309 

Maupeou,  Marquis  de,  lover  of 
Mile.  Contat,  242,  243,  246 

Marsollier  (dramatist),  212,  217 

Memoires  secrets,  les,  (cited)  45, 
54,  64,  75,  114  note,  121,  149, 
163,  167,  178,  180,  181,  260. 
290,  302 

Mercier  (cited),  59 

Mercure  de  France,  le  (cited), 
14,  15,  16,  53,  54  note,  65, 
68,  105,  106,  123,  149,  163,  229 
note,  275,  284,  288  note 


3c:6 


INDEX 


Mercy- Argenteau,  Comte  de  (Aus- 
trian Ambassador  in  Paris), 
his  infatuation  for  Rosalie 
Levasseur,  69,  70  ;  persuades 
Gluck  to  give  her  lessons  in 
singing,  70  ;  and  the  part 
of  Alceste  in  preference  to 
Sophie  Arnould,  71 

Merlin  de  Douai,  188 

Mesmer  fails  to  cure  Sophie 
Arnould's  dog,  79,  80 

Metra,  319;  (cited)  65,  301,  320 

Mirabeau,  321 

Miromesnil,  M.  de,  his  wager  with 
the  Comte  de  Vaudreuil,  230 
note 

Mole  (actor),   183 

Moli^re,   182,  249 

Moreau  le  jeune  (painter),  286, 
299,  300 

Mouret  (composer),   14 

N 

Napoleon  I.,  Emperor,  sends  Mile. 
Raucourt  to  Italy  with  a  troupe 
of  French  players,  190  ;  an 
admirer  of  Mile.  Contat's  act- 
ing, 258  ;  attends  her  bene- 
fit performance,  259  ;  verses 
incorrectly  ascribed  to  him, 
308 

Neufchateau,  Fran9ois  de,  gives 
Sophie  Arnould  a  pension,  92  ; 
resigns  his  post  as  Minister 
of  the  Interior,  93  ;  the  pro- 
duction of  his  Pamela  causes 
the  arrest  of  the  players  of 
the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  183  ; 
persuades  the  Consular  Govern- 
ment to  reorganise  theComedie- 
Fran9aise,  189 

Nina,  ou  la  Folle  par  amour, 
Madame  Dugazon's  success  in, 
211-214,  216 

Ninette  d  la  Cour,  124,  285 

Nivelon  (dancer),    128  note,  311 

Noverre  (cited),  108 


CEdipe,  Sacchini's,  310 
Orphee  et  Eurydice,  Gluck's,  66, 
68 


Pallisot,     his    Couriisanes,    228, 

229 
Parny,  Paul  de  Forges,  marries 

Mile.  Contat,  258 
PenSlope,       Piccini's,      Madame 

Saint-Huberty's     success     in, 

309 

Pergolese,  his  Serva  Padrona 
performed   in  Paris,   58 

Perregaux  (banker),  becomes 
the  owner  of  Mile.  Guimard's 
hotel  in  the  Chaussee  d'Antin. 
133  ;  her  letters  to  him  from 
London,   134,   135 

Phidre,  Lemoine's.  secured,  by 
Madame  Saint-Huberty,  pre- 
cedence over  Sacchini's  CEdipe, 
310  ;  ruse  by  which  its  success 
is  assured,   311 

Phddre,  Racine's,  Mile.  Rau- 
court's  hostile  reception  in, 
172-174 

Piccini,  production  of  his  Roland, 
283,  284  ;  his  gratitude  to 
Madame  Saint-Huberty,  284  ; 
saves  her  from  being  expelled 
from  the  Opera,  287  ;  his 
contest  with  Gluck,  295,  296  ; 
receives  a  pension,  296  ;  agrees 
to  compose  his  Didon,  296, 
297  ;  its  brilliant  success, 
300-305  ;  failure  of  his  Pene- 
lope, 309 

Pompadour,  Madame  de,  Sophie 
Arnould's    visit    to    her,    9-1 1 

Portail,  Madame, her  conversation 
with  Sophie  Arnould,  28,  29 

Preville,  superior  to  Dugazon  as 
a  comedian,  200  ;  adopts 
Louise  Contat  and  trains  her 
for  the  stage,  225  ;  secures 
her  admission  as  a  regular 
member  of  the  Comedie-Fran- 
9aise,  227  ;  anecdote  about 
him  and  Garrick,  230  note ; 
plays  Brid'oison  in  Mariage  de 
Figaro,   239 

Provenfale,  la,  Sophie  Arnould's 
success  in,  15 

Pygmalion,  Mile.  Raucourt's  suc- 
cess in,  163 


INDEX 


357 


Q 

Quidor  (inspector  of  police) 
pursues  the  dancer  Nivelon  to 
Belgium,  128  note  ;  ingenious 
ruse  by  whch  he  secures  the 
success   of   Lemoine's   Phddre, 

311 


Rameau  (composer),  5 1 

Raucourt,  Fran9ois  (father  of 
Mile.  Raucourt),  his  unsuc- 
cessful debut  at  the  GDmedie- 
Fran^aise,  146  ;  goes  with 
his  daughter  to  Spain,  146  ; 
accompanies  her  to  Paris, 
147  ;  a  jealous  guardian  of 
her  honour,  154;  utters 
terrible  threats  against  Vol- 
taire,  157 

Raucourt,  Mile.,  birth  and 
parentage,  145  note,  146  ; 
goes  to  Spain  with  a  French 
troupe,  146  ;  plays  at  Rouen, 
146  ;  comes  to  Paris  with  her 
father,  147  ;  studies  under 
Brizard  and  Mile.  Clairon,  147 
and  note  ;  astonishing  success 
of  her  debut  in  Le  Franc  de 
Pompignan's  Didon,  148,  149  ; 
her   talent   greatly   overrated, 

150  ;  becomes  the  idol  of  the 
town,  1 50,  151;  plays  before 
the  Court  at  Versailles,  151  ; 
presented  by  Madame  du 
Barry  with  a  robe  de  thedtre, 

151  ;  frantic  enthusiasm 
evoked  by  her  acting,  152  ;  a 
cabal  formed  against  her  at 
the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  152, 
153  ;  her  popularity  enhanced 
by  her  reputation  for  virtue, 
154-156;  her  reputation 
attacked  by  Voltaire,  156- 
158  ;  his  verses  to  her,  158  ; 
her  galanterie  with  the  Due 
d'Aiguillon,  159;  becomes  the 
acknowledged  mistress  of  the 
Marquis  de  Bi^vre,  159  ;  leads 
a  life  of  luxury  and  extrava- 
gance, 160  ;  her  liaison  with 
the  Marquis  de  Villette,   160 ; 


"  astonishes  Court  and  town 
by  her  irregularities,"  161  ; 
loses  her  popularity,  161  ; 
hissed  when  playing  Hermione 
in  Androniaque,  162  ;  accused 
of  shameful  vices,  162  and  note, 

163  ;  her  success  as  the 
Statue  in  Pygmalion,  163  ; 
intrigues  against  her  at  the 
theatre,  163  ;  swoons  after 
meeting  wih  a  hostile  recep- 
tion in  Britannicus,  164  ; 
persecuted    by    her    creditors, 

164  ;  flies  from  Paris  and  goes 
into  hiding,  164  ;  expelled 
from    the    Comedie-Fran9aise, 

165  ;  her  adventures  with 
Madame  Souck,  165,  166  ; 
arrested,  166;  released  through 
the  intervention  of  the  Prince 
de  Ligne,  166,  167  ;  leaves 
France,  167  ;  recalled  to  Paris, 
170  ;  befriended  by  Sophie 
Arnould,  170,  171  ;  reappears 
at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  in 
Didon,  171,  172  ;  meets  with 
a  violently  hostile  reception, 
172  ;  disgracefully  treated  on 
her  appearance  in  Phedre, 
172,  173  ;  declines  to  bow  to 
the  storm,  174  ;  her  letter  to 
the  Journal  de  Paris,  175  ; 
attacked  in  La  Vision  du 
prophete  Daniel,  176,  177  ; 
commits  "  an  act  of  frightful 
ingratitude,"  177  ;  still  in 
financial  difficulties,  178  ;  her 
play  Henriette  produced  at  the 
Comedie-Fran9aise,  178-181  ; 
her  success  in  a  masculine  part 
in  Le  Jaloux,  181  ;  regaining 
her  popularity,  181,  182  ; 
sympathises  with  the  Royal 
Family  in  the  Revolution,  183  ; 
arrested  and  imprisoned  in 
Saint  -  Pelagic,  183  ;  saved 
from  the  guillotine  by  Labus- 
si^re,  184-186  ;  takes  the 
Theatre  de  Louvois,  187  ;  her 
success  in  Legouve's  Laurence, 
187  ;  her  theatre  closed  by 
the  Directory,  188  ;  takes  the 
Odeon,  188  ;  makes  no  secret 
of  her  monarchical  sympathies. 


35^ 


INDEX 


189;  growing  rich,  189,  190; 
her  "  palace  "  in  the  Rue 
Royale,  190  ;  takes  a  French 
troupe  to  Italy,  190  ;  her 
last  appearance,  190  ;  her 
death,  190  ;  scandalous  scenes 
at  her  funeral,  190-193 

Renaud,  Sacchini's,  289 

Richelieu,  Marechal  de,  156,  157 

Rochefort,  Comte  de,  enriches 
Mile.  Guimard's  jewel-case,  108 

Roland,   Piccini's,   283 

Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  163,  321 


Sageret  (theatrical  manager)  in- 
duces the  members  of  the 
Comedie-Fran9aise  to  migrate 
to  the  Theatre-Feydeau,  187  ; 
brings  the  expelled  members 
of  the  Theatre  de  la  Republique 
to  the  same  theatre,  i88  ; 
takes  over  the  Odeon  from 
Mile.  Raucourt,  188  ;  goes 
bankrupt  and  disappears,  189 

Sacchini,  Madame  Saint  -  Hu  - 
berty's  success  in  his  Renaud, 
289  ;  and  in  his  Chimene, 
308  ;  Lemoine's  PMdre  given 
precedence  over  his  (Edipe  a 
Colons,  310  ;    his  death,  310 

Saint- Aubin  (singer),  object  of  a 
violent  fancy  on  the  part  of 
Madame   Saint-Huberty,    312. 

313 
Saint-Aubin,  Madame,  313 
Saint-Huberty,  Claude  Croisilles 

de,     visits     Strasburg,     268  ; 

persuades    Antoinette    Clavel 

to  accompany  him  to  Berlin, 

269  ;    and  to  marry  him,  269, 

270  ;  ill-treats  and  deserts  her, 
270  ;  persuades  her  to  rejoin 
him  at  Warsaw,  27 1  ;  arrested 
at  Berlin  and  thrown  into 
prison,  271  ;  his  release  pro- 
cured by  his  wife,  272  ; 
decamps  from  Warsaw  with 
all  her  belongings,  272  ;  per- 
suades her  to  rejoin  him  in 
Vienna,  274  ;  deserts  her  for 
the  third  time,  274  ;  appointed 
wardrobe-keeper  at  the  Paris 


Opera,  276  ;  persecutes  and 
robs  his  wife,  276  ;  her  com- 
plaint to  the  Chatelet  against 
him,  277  ;  his  outrageous 
treatment  of  her,  278,  279  ; 
lays  claim  to  her  professional 
earnings  through  fictitious 
creditors,  279,  280  ;  his  mar*- 
riage  with  her  dissolved,  281 
Saint-Huberty,  Madame,  Gluck's 
prediction  concerning  her,  265, 

266  ;  her  birth  and  parentage, 

267  ;  her  early  years  at 
Strasburg,  267  ;  Lemoine's 
kindness  to  her,  267,  268  ; 
meets  Saint  -  Huberty,  268, 
269  ;  accompanies  him  to  Ber- 
lin, 269  ;  marries  him,  270  ; 
ill-treated  and  deserted  by 
him,  270  ;  rejoins  him  at 
Warsaw,  271  ;  her  success  in 
Zemor  et  Azor,  271  ;  pro- 
cures her  husband's  release 
from  prison,  272  ;  deserted 
and  robbed  by  him,  272  ; 
befriended  by  the  Princess 
Lubomirska,  272  ;  obtains  a 
separation  from  her  husband 
in  respect  of  property,  273  ; 
rejoins  him  in  Vienna,  274  ; 
deserted  by  him  for  the  third 
time,  274  ;  obtains  an  ordre 
de  debut  at  the  Paris  Opera, 
275  ;  receives  lessons  from 
Gluck,  274,  275  and  note  ; 
makes  her  debut,  275  ;  perse- 
cuted and  robbed  by  her 
husband,  276  ;  lodges  a  com- 
plaint against  him  before  the 
Chalelet,  277,  278  ;  shame- 
fully ill-treated  by  him,   278, 

279  ;  her  professional  earnings 
claimed  by  him  through  fic- 
titious creditors,  280  ;  obtains 
judgment      in      her      favour, 

280  ;  and  a  dissolution  of 
her  marriage,  281  ;  steadily 
making  her  way  to  the  front, 
281,  282  ;  becomes  a  per- 
manent member  of  the  Opera, 
283  ;  her  triumph  as  Angelique 
in  Piccini's  Roland,  283,  284  ; 
further  successes,  284  ;  her 
efforts  on  behalf  of  Lemoine's 


INDEX 


359 


ilectre,  285  ;  endeavours  to 
promote  the  reform  of  the- 
atrical costumes,  286  ;  her 
success  in  Ariane  dans  I' He 
de  Naxos,  287  ;  saved  by 
Piccini  from  being  expelled 
from  the  Opera,  287  ;  her 
success  in  Gretry's  I' Embarras 
des  richesses,  288,  28Q  ;  and 
in  Sacchini's  Renaud,  289  ; 
her  personal  appearance,  289, 
290 ;  "  effects  a  well-nigh 
physical  transformation  on  the 
stage,"  290  ;  her  dispute  with 
the  authorities  of  the  Opera 
over  her  salary  and  privileges, 
290-294  ;  all  her  demands  con- 
ceded, 294  ;  sings  her  part  in 
Piccini's  Didon  at  Marmontel's 
country-house,  297  ;  goes  on  a 
provincial  tour,  297  ;  modesty 
not  one  of  her  failings,  298  ; 
insists  on  a  radical  change  in 
costume,  299,  300  ;  her  bril- 
liant triumph  in  Didon,  300- 
306  ;  extraordinary  enthu- 
siasm aroused  by  her  in  the 
provinces,  306  ;  her  recep- 
tions at  Marseilles,  Toulouse, 
and  Strasburg,  306  -  308  ; 
fresh  successes  in  Paris,  308, 
309  ;  obtains  precedence  for 
Lemoine's  Phedre  over  the 
(Edipe  of  Sacchini,  310,  311  ; 
her  character  less  agreeable 
than  her  talent,  311,  312  ;  her 
passion  for  the  tenor  Saint- 
Aubin,  312,  313  ;  her  arrogance 
and  capriciousness,  313-315  ; 
goes  to  Strasburg  without  per- 
mission, 315  ;  encourages  the 
younger  members  of  the  Opera 
in  insubordination,  317-319  ; 
her  disputes  with  the  ad- 
ministration over  her  cos- 
tumes, 317-319  ;  her  private 
life  comparatively  free  from 
scandal,  319,  320  ;  her  re- 
lations with  the  Comte 
d'Antraigues,  320-323  ;  her 
charming  letter  to   him,    323, 

324  ;  her  health  under- 
mined  by  her  exertions,  324, 

325  ;     leaves   Paris   and   joins 


the  Comte  d'Antraigues  in 
Switzerland,  326  ;  secretly 
married  to  him,  326,  327  ; 
bears  him  a  son,  327  ;  acknow- 
ledged as  his  wife  by  the  count, 
328  ;  assists  him  to  escape 
from  Milan,  329  ;  receives  the 
Order  of  Saint-Michel  from 
the  Comte  de  Provence,  329, 
330  ;  and  a  pension  from  the 
Emperor  of  Austria,  330  note  ; 
accompanies  her  husband  to 
England,  330  ;  assassinated 
with  him  by  their  servant 
Lorenzo,  3^1  -  ZAi  ;  "the 
greatest  lyric  tragedienne  whom 
France    has    ever    possessed," 

343 

Sainval,  Mile,  the  elder,  in- 
trigues against  Mile.  Rau- 
court,  153  ;  her  quarrel  with 
Madame  Vestris,  167,  168  ; 
insults  the  Due  de  Duras,  168, 
169  ;  expelled  from  the  Come- 
die-Fran9aise  and  exiled,  169  ; 
indignation  which  her  punish- 
ment arouses,  169  ;  received 
in  the  provinces  with  frantic 
enthusiasm,  169  ;  believed  to 
be  responsible  for  the  hostile 
demonstrations  against  Mile. 
Raucourt,  174  ;  her  bon  mot 
about  Mile.  Raucourt,  181 

Sainval,  Mile,  the  younger, 
takes  the  place  of  Mile.  Rau- 
court at  the  Comedie-Fran- 
9aise,  165  ;  adversely  criticised, 
165  note  ;  scene  during  her 
impersonation  of  Amenaide  in 
Tancrcde,    169 

Sedaine,  217 

Salieri,  his  Dana'ides,  309 

Sully,  Due  de,  Sophie  Arnould's 
bon  mot  about  him  and 
Choiseul.    34 

Soubise,  Prince  de,  amant  en 
tiire  of  Mile.  Guimard,  1 10  ; 
his  predilection  for  the  ladies 
of  the  Opera,  1 10  ;  his 
liberality,  no;  gives  Mile. 
Guimard  a  New  Year's  gift 
of  6000  livres,  114;  compels 
her  to  give  La  Borde  his  conge, 
120,     121  ;     replaces    her    by 


360 


INDEX 


Mile.  Zacharie,  129,  130;  the 
pensions  which  he  allows  her 
and  other  danseuses  resigned 
by  them,  130,  131 


Talma  sympathises  with  the 
Revolution,  182;  withdraws 
from  the  Comedie-Franfaise 
and  founds  the  Theatre  de  la 
Republique,  182  ;  joins  the 
Theatre -Fey  deau  on  the  closing 
of  his  own  theatre,  188 

Talma,  Madame,  251 

Tancvlde,  incident  during  a  per- 
formance of,    169 

Taravel  (painter),   117 

Terrai,  Abbe,  Sophie  Amould's 
hon  mot  about  him,  34 


V 

Vallayer  Coster,  Madame,  her 
portrait  of  Madame  Saint- 
Huberty,  290 

Vandreuil,  Comte  de  (dancer), 
his  wager  with  M.  de  Miro- 
mesnil,  230  note  ;  his  efforts 
on  behalf  of  the  Manage  de 
Figaro,  230,  231,  232 

Vestris,  Auguste  (dancer),  126 

Vestris  Gaetano  (dancer),  61, 
62 

Vestris,  Madame,  disobliges  Mile. 
Clairon,  147  note  ;  organises  a 
cabal  against  Mile.  Raucourt, 
153  ;  her  quarrel  with  Mile. 
Sainval  the  elder,  167-170  ; 
urges  the  reinstatement  of 
Mile.  Raucourt  at  the  Comedie- 


Franfaise,  170  ;  attacked  in 
La  Vision  du  prophcte  Daniel, 
176 

Vision  du  prophete  Daniel,  la, 
satire  on  Mile.  Raucourt  and 
her  friends,  176,  177 

Vigee  Lebrun,  Madame  (cited), 
208,  220,  235 

Voisenon,  Abbe  de,  41 

Voltaire,  a  friend  of  Madame 
Arnould,  4  ;  his  letter  to 
Sophie  Arnould,  5,  6  ;  visited 
by  Lauraguais  at  Femey,  35  ; 
his  pretended  admiration  of 
Lauraguais 's  Clytemnestre,  35 
note  ;  visits  Sophie  Arnould, 
79  ;  Madame  du  Barry's 
message  to  him,  121  ;  be- 
smirches the  spotless  reputa- 
tion of  Mile.  Raucourt's  156- 
158  ;  pours  the  balm  of  his 
flattery  upon  the  wound  he 
has  inflicted,   158 


W 

Wallace  Collection,  the,   19 
Walpole,  Horace  (cited),  44  note, 
117  note 

X 

Ximenes,  Marquis  de,  157 


Zacharie,  Mile,  {danseuse),  re- 
places Mile.  Guimard  in  the 
affections  of  the  Prince  de 
Soubise,  129,  130 


Printed  by  Ballanttne  &  Co,  Liuited 
Tavistock  Street,  London 


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